


Carry You

by Bluebutterflydays



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Grief, Hospital, Human AU, Medical, Potionless - Freeform, Pregnancy, butterfly bog, strange magic au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebutterflydays/pseuds/Bluebutterflydays
Summary: She never really viewed herself in a maternal light. The thought of a tiny, half-her person spouting out both ends and completely depending on her was rather terrifying on the surface. She was unsure whether it would ever come to the point where she wanted that for herself. It was not a decision she was apt to explore, at least not yet…It just so happened that the decision was presented to her quite suddenly and unexpectedly at a particularly comfortable spot in her life. She had a fulfilling job, she had an apartment she hardly ever saw, she had a loving boyfriend who respected her. She still had a hefty reserve of her birthday booze.Two pink lines threw everything she knew for a giant loop.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was previously sequestered to my tumblr as the content was personal to me, but I am at a point now where I'm ready to share, so please... enjoy?

She never really viewed herself in a maternal light. The thought of a tiny, half-her person spouting out both ends and completely depending on her was rather terrifying on the surface. She was unsure whether it would ever come to the point where she wanted that for herself. It was not a decision she was apt to explore, at least not yet…

It just so happened that the decision was presented to her quite suddenly and unexpectedly at a particularly comfortable spot in her life. She had a fulfilling job, she had an apartment she hardly ever saw, she had a loving boyfriend who respected her. She still had a hefty reserve of her birthday booze.

Two pink lines threw everything she knew for a giant loop.

“What the fuck?” was her first question, but the answer was obvious.

“What the fuck do I want? What am I even doing?” Those were the trickier questions.

It was probably hours that she spent laying across her bed, tapping her phone screen to keep it awake as she stared at Bog’s contact information, adjusting her already well-adjusted spectacles. Her finger hovered between the message and call buttons as her heart thumped away in her ears, anxious nausea making her position on her belly increasingly unbearable.

Eventually, she reasoned her way out of the scenario in which she would have to address this issue head on. She would see the doctor first. Honestly, that was the responsible thing to do, right? She should be sure first… It helped that it allowed her to procrastinate. In fact, she could probably just act like nothing was happening until she saw the doctor. She wouldn’t even think about it.

This was her hope as she swiped away from Bog’s number and instead called her doctor. Her appointment was a whole week away, it wouldn’t be a problem.

It was a huge problem.

Every spare moment was consumed with thoughts of her possible pregnancy. At the hospital where she worked, she would find herself walking past the OB wing much more often than need be. It would have been easy, she could have had an answer over the span of her lunch break, but she always convinced herself it was better to wait.

When she had the time to be home and not sleeping, she resorted to pacing the floor, as if some deep introspection would lend her a view into her uterus. Ultimately it didn’t matter though, she tried to tell herself, she didn’t want kids. It would just be a matter of inconvenience if she were knocked up, not some life-altering event.

She met with Bog only once that week, her eyes always far off and away from his own. It felt like she was keeping something scandalous from him, but she couldn’t understand why. It was just something happening with her body and nothing definite yet…

But he watched her so closely, she felt she would burst right there in the coffee shop. He saw when she paused before taking a sip of her scalding dark roast. He watched her take off her glasses to clean the lenses a dozen times. Her nerves froze in her chest, her skin tingling under his gaze.

“What?” She demanded, perhaps a bit too confrontationally.

He blinked at her, adjusting his hold on the daintily folded-over newspaper. He ran a finger along the inside crease of the business pages and shook his head.

“Are you alright?” He asked simply, his voice low and heavy.

“I’m fine”.

Her contrite response was not enough, she knew, it reflected on his increasingly more concerned face. He nonetheless nodded and turned his head finally down to the paper, his eyes lowering in resignation.

The tables turned then. She could not take her eyes off of Bog despite her fear. His sharp features and heavy brow. The immaculate order of his appearance and clothes. It reflected so much of his life before her, even his life now.

There was a bitingly stoic quality to Bog, though she knew personally of his impassioned views and opinions on the world, on her. The anger had always been evident, but there was so much more beneath it. They shared that quality, if nothing else.

His home reflected his image, stately, yet seemingly barren. It was simple and clean, but had sentimentality hidden away in well-concealed nooks. It seemed a lot like the hospital to Marianne, sterile and efficient. The idea that a child would fit anywhere in that image was preposterous at best.

A lump formed in the back of her throat and she looked down, feeling her eyes suddenly and inexplicably blur.

It didn’t really matter either way, she repeated in her mind, willing the swelling sadness to settle somewhere low and unseen in her chest. There would be nothing to tell, there would be no prospective arrangement which might hamper the locked image she had of Bog or his abode.

This didn’t really hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yup, you’re pregnant,“ the nurse’s smirk translated to her chipper tone, but both fell when she looked down at the prone Marianne and her scowl, "Congratulations?”

Marianne opened her mouth, an ocean of words trembling at the tip of her tongue, yet relented to a trickle of a sound, “Oh…”

"Do you want a look?“ The nurse asked, beginning to turn the monitor. Marianne reached out quickly to stop her.

"No!” She looked back down to her belly, the wand of the ultrasound machine still held pressed into her skin, the gel bitingly cold against the open air, “I… I’m done…”

The nurse pulled the wand up, holding it up in surrender as Marianne nearly dove for the tissue box and started wiping the lubricant up feverishly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

"I’ll get the doctor. She can explain your options…“

"I KNOW my options,” Marianne snapped, eyes still glued to her belly, wiping where there was nothing left to clean.

"Okay then… we can make an appointment"

"No!“ Marianne snapped again, but then stopped and sighed, "Just give me some time…”

"Of course,“ The nurse stood, "I’ll send the doc in to see you off…”

"No need" Marianne stood, rebuttoning her pants and hurriedly grabbed her coat, “I’ll call”.

With that, she breezed out of the room, avoiding eye contact all the way through the office and waiting room and hospital building as they blurred past her. She didn’t stop until she hit the cold autumn air and let out the long breath she had not realized she had been holding, unleashing the stream of tears she had been holding much longer.

Wiping ineffectively at the gushing liquid, she made her way slowly to her car, the crying getting heavier and sloppier as she went, small groans forcing themselves out from deep in her throat.

She somehow found her car and climbed inside, immediately collapsing against the steering wheel when she did.

"Oh God…“ she groaned, her pulse fluttering in her chest as she gasped for air.

Terrifying and exhilarating, the epiphany crashed into her being, wrecking her beyond repair.

As much as she tried not to, she really truly wanted to keep this child.


	2. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting pregnant is never quite how you envision it. With so much in the media making it feel mystic and huge and beautiful… when it comes right down to it, you’re not prepared for what it really means to you, which varies from person to person.
> 
> It can be disappointing in a lot of ways. Not just in how you feel, but how others might feel as well. 
> 
> So here, part one!

It was sleeting the day she finally told him. Cold wet ice rained endlessly down like tiny knives, making it impossible to stand out in it for more than a moment uncovered. It was the worst weather of the year by anyone’s measure.

Somehow, Marianne truly did not mind the bite of it against her face as she ran from her vehicle into Bog’s apartment building, even as it splattered against her glasses. It was somewhat refreshing in the face of the impending conversation, something light to the heavy burden lying on her heart. She had waited long enough and the thought of that tiny life growing inside of her everyday settled at the forefront of her mind.

She may have been excited about it, but the guilt of keeping it secret grew each day as well.

Marianne shook off her coat and hair and wiped off her glasses as she made her way to the elevator. Before she could even reach out to push the button, the contraption dinged, alerting her before the doors slid open and revealed a looming Bog. She felt another pang of guilt when she saw his concerned and desperate face. Perhaps she should not have told him she had something important to talk to him about before heading over.

She was sure now he had been rolling the possible scenarios around in his mind. Knowing him, none of them would have been good.  
Still, her heart swelled at the sight of him and she smiled despite herself. She hurried into the elevator and hooked her arms around his waist, pressing her face straight into his chest and inhaling him. He faltered, surely startled at her sudden actions in juxtaposition to his own cynical thought process. It wasn’t until the elevator was moving that he settled his hands on her shoulder and head, cradling her awkwardly as his unsteady breaths became deeper.

“Are you… alright?” He asked with trepidation. She nodded her head, face still buried in his miraculous smelling shirt.

“Was it… was it Roland again?”

She tensed momentarily at the name and then let out a scoff, shaking her head. Finally, she stood back and looked up at his creased face, locking onto his crystal blue eyes as she realigned her spectacles. She wanted nothing more now than to melt into him, to just touch him and know he was there with every sense she possessed. That was probably because she feared his reaction to what she had vowed to finally tell him.

Her smile faltered, falling with her eyes towards the floor as she turned, “Let’s get to your apartment first…”

“Marianne…” Bog’s voice was low and sounded almost as fearful as her thoughts. Luckily, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. She hurried out, Bog ambling after, and bee lined for the familiar door down the unbearably quiet hall. She waited, watching Bog’s hands as he fumbled for his keys and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let her enter first. The smell hit her first, a cool lavender settled atop the undeniable bleach. He did that for her every time she planned to come over. All because she had remarked on liking that particular scent once and being reminded of her work when she caught whiff of the bleach.

He accommodated for her in his own sacred space. She sighed as she stripped off her jacket and hung it by the door, slipping out of her shoes simultaneously.

“Please, Marianne,” Bog said as the door closed, “tell me what is going on”.

The lump in her throat grew tighter as she sucked in a sharp breath and moved to the sitting area, “I, uh…”

Why was this so hard, just a few more words. She stopped behind the couch, unsure whether she could make herself sit. Bog hurried to her side, making it worse.

“You can tell me anything,” He reasoned, a hand coming up to move some hair away from her face. She did her best not to flinch away and hurt his feelings, but knew that if she looked at him, the words would never come out. So she tensed her shoulders, ducking her head down as she closed her eyes.

“I’m uh…” She choked again on the words, “Damnit, why is this so hard?”

His hands stopped moving, a freezing stillness suddenly between them. Marianne realized what his mind could do with her careless words.

“Oh Bog, no!” She turned, looking up at the sick look on his face, “That’s not what this is about. No. I love you”.

He looked relieved for a moment, and then skeptical, “Then what is it?”

“I’m uh, well, I’m pregnant, that’s all. I’m just pregnant…”

An odd choice of words, she thought, her brows crinkling. Bog took a moment in absorbing her words, his own brows coming down in consternation. His mouth hung open for a moment.

“I know… unexpected… but not really, all things considered. I mean I should have tracked better when I cycled through those antibiotics. I mean, I’m a doctor for crying out loud, you’d think I would have paid closer attention to the timing of my birth control and such-”

“…pregnant?” Just above a whisper, he seemed to have as much trouble saying it as she had.

"Well, yes… as it turns out, you knocked me up".

“Oh…." 

"Yeah”.

“Well…” His fingers strummed as he tried to gather himself back together, standing straight, “Have you thought on… what you want to do?”

“I have,” Marianne stated, much more confidently, “And I know what I want”.

“You can take as much time as you need….” he turned towards the kitchen, resting against the back of the couch, “I will support your decision-”

“Bog,” she stopped him, a hand held up, “I know what I want”.

What seemed like an hour passed between them in one tense silence. She wanted to know what he wanted. At the very least she wanted him to ask…

“And?” He said finally, denying her a clue to his disposition on the matter. She supposed that it was out of respect for her choices, but at the moment it was simply annoying.

“I want to keep it”.

“Oh”.

He looked out at his place, she wondered if he was trying to fit another life into the picture, much like she had weeks back.

“What do you need from me?” He asked.

“Nothing!” She hurriedly answered, “Just, you know, your thoughts”.

“I don’t…” he stopped, pushing off the couch, “I don’t know yet. I guess we’ll just see how it goes”.

“What?” She blinked.

“Do you want a drink?”

“What do you mean, see how it goes?" 

He continued to the kitchen, much to her despair, "How far along are you?”

“Nine weeks, why?”

“Well, the first trimester is the most uncertain statistically,” He said, leaning over his fridge as he opened it and withdrew a water, “I just mean… I need some more time to process this”.

“Really…” Marianne settled a hand over her abdomen, suddenly feeling very protective, “If you don’t want this, you don’t have to be part of it…”

His head came up quickly and he stared across the island at her, “That’s not what I meant”.

She looked away as he made his way back to her.

“Marianne, love, I will stay by you no matter what. I just…” He readjusted her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, “I don’t want you to get too excited about this”.

Her eyes shot over to him, all venom and confusion. This was not one of the reactions she had prepped for, but it was pissing her off.

“Don’t be stupid, Bog,” she snapped, shrugging away from him, “I’m not gonna go out and blow a bunch of money on baby stuff before I’m even showing or shout it out to all my friends and family… who do you think I am?”

“No,” he contested, “I just think we shouldn’t get invested in…. this”.

She let out a huff and threw her hands up, “whatever”.

“Marianne…” his voice took on that grating tone of a person trying to hint that she was overreacting. She cracked her neck to try and break the sudden tension that might result in someone’s bodily harm if left alone.

“I gotta go,” she growled. But Bog stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t want to come off so crass… I’m just… worried about you”.

Her resolve softened slightly and she turned slightly to look up at Bog, “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big girl”.

“Well,” he patted the top of her head, “sorta”.

She smirked and smacked his hand away, “Tall jackass”.

He chuckled and used the opportunity to bring her back to him in an embrace, sighing long.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he said, stroking her hair.

“I know…” she said.

The pull of her chest told her that he already had, however, and she wondered how long it would take for that pain to fade. Any moment now, she thought, but her fear only grew. Would he truly come to a point where he could match her attachment to this tiny life? How long would it take? 

She wanted to share her decision, her commitment, her life change, with Bog. She wanted him to be there emotionally, right where she was. It couldn’t be forced, however, so she merely lamented in the lonely acknowledgment that she carried a tiny light within her. One she found worthy of her protection.

But Bog wanted to protect only her. Perhaps that would be enough for now.

She turned her head and stared at the pristine apartment, still aching over the thought that he truly didn’t want this, making her position in his life uncomfortably precarious.


	3. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of having a baby hits people differently at different times. It’s a bit different than the reality of being pregnant, because OHMYGODTHERESAHUMANBEINGINSIDEOFYOUDOINGCARTWHEELS…. But I digress… some of the most joyful moments of pregnancy are also the most terrifying. And sometimes, in all our hopeful excitement, we only see what we want to see. Also, ultrasounds are annoying.
> 
> Enjoy part two!

Dawn knew. Damn her, Dawn always knew. Whether it was by some mystical force or a deeply rooted intuition, all secrets ended with her sly, knowing smile.

“So, when were you going to tell me?” She demanded, hands perched on her hips over her scrubs.

Marianne squinted against her sister’s beaming smile, pressing her tablet closer to her chest as she swivelled the chair back from the nurse’s station.

“Don’t you have an infant to wash shit off of or something…” Marianne muttered.

“Oh no, I’m much more concerned with this one,” Dawn wiggled a finger down towards her abdomen, “Oh my God, Marianne, I’m gonna be an auntie!”

“Shh!” Marianne stood and leaned over the desk, looking around to make sure nobody heard, “I’m not letting people know yet…”

“Pfft, boring,” Dawn rolled her eyes, but then leaned forward whispering excitedly, “I get to buy baby stuff… ooh, maybe I can help deliver-”

“No”.

“Well, whatever, I’ll be there either way,” Dawn was practically bouncing now, “Oh! How did Boggy react?”

“He, uh…” Marianne thought back to the flippant reception from the typically stoic man, “He knows”.

Dawn blinked, “Well, is he going to the next ultrasound?”

“Oh, yeah,” He had indeed insisted on being there, though she was not entirely confident as to why. She supposed it would be okay to take it as a good sign, as confusing as the rest of his conduct on the matter had been thus far.

In fact, there was no talk of her pregnancy otherwise as of late. Things seemed to be normal and routine when it came to being with him. She had made it a point to stay over at his place more often, pining for some form of intimacy she felt just out of reach. It worried her.

She wondered if it was just her or if Bog was truly detaching himself from her. Was she just too preoccupied to connect again?

“Oh hey, I have some reading material for you now that I think about it,” Dawn nodded and winked, “Talk to me after your shift, I’ll hand it off discreetly…”

“Okay…” Marianne nodded back uncertainly and then stood, “I gotta get back to work anyway…”

"Right, see you later,“ She smacked the desk and then turned, but then stopped, "And hey! Congratulations!”

Marianne waved her sister off as they took off in opposite directions down the hall, muttering under her breath with a smirk, “thank you”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

She was so nervous now. Why just now, after everything?

She looked down at her watch and then back at the door. She knew this was inconvenient for Bog. He ran his own business for crying out loud. And it was his busy season as much as it was hers with the flu. She told him he didn’t have to be there, but he insisted.

So why was he not there yet?

“Fairman?” A nurse called out.

“Doctor Fairman…” she muttered under her breath out of reflex, but then stood.

“Wait wait wait,” Bog huried into the room, slinking his lanky body past the glass doors as he loosed the scarf from around his neck and shook off the dusting of snow on his shoulders, “I’m here”.

Marianne let out a sigh of relief, but found only more anxiety to replace the prior tension.

“Yours?” The nurse gestured as Bog came up beside her.

“Indeed”.

The nurse opened up the door to a labyrinth of familiar-seeming doorways. Though Marianne recognized the layout and method, from the basic patterned tiles to the markers above each door, it felt so foreign and mysterious with Bog now beside her. They walked stiffly until they came to a large, dimly lit room. Marianne strode in as Bog stood rigidly in the doorway.

She sat atop the small table and looked to him. His eyes were wider than normal as they scanned over the room, taking in the chairs, computers and machines, finally resting on a monitor in the corner of the room. Surely he knew what all of this was, he made a living off of selling them. Or, at least, similar medical equipment. And yet, he looked as if he had stepped into an alien spaceship.

“Doc wants to get right to it, so,” The nurse handed her a thin robe, “Get undressed, waist down, we’ll knock before we enter”.

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving them alone. Marianne unfolded the robe and held it out in front of her.

“Opens at the back,” she remarked, “fantastic”.

“Um, do you want me to…" 

Bog was motioning nervously, trying to signal that he could turn around. Marianne couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Nothing you haven’t seen before,” She shrugged, beginning to remove her layers, “besides, only one reason to fully disrobe for an ultrasound… you get to see them use the dildo wand”.

“What?” His voice rose an octave, making her laugh out loud.

“Transvaginal ultrasound,” She was down to her underwear and shirt and slipped the robe on over her arms, tying it loosely behind her back, “gets a better look at…”

She stopped before she could call it a baby, fear suddenly gripping her once more. 

“Gets a better look”.

She could feel Bog’s eyes on her as her mood shifted back down. He could read her so well, it seemed. Why was she so blind to him?

The knock came at the door as she was settling herself on the examination table. Bog was still frozen beside the door.

“Come in!” Marianne shouted and the door cracked open.

“Marianne, what a surprise,” The doctor came in, nurse trailing after, “You always seem to bolt from my office before I see you”.

Bog looked to her once more as the doctor sat beside the exam table.

“Well, you know how it is,” Marianne reasoned with a light-hearted chuckle, “Doctors. Busy busy…”

“You haven’t even had a good look at that baby of yours,” The man chuckled, “don’t be scared”.

“You haven’t seen it?” Bog asked so suddenly that the rest of the room jumped. Marianne just stared at him.

“Oh, is this the father?”

“Uhhh…” Marianne’s mouth hung open.

“Come, stand here,” The doctor motioned to Marianne’s other side.

“Oh c'mon, let’s just get this moving, guys,” she said, sinking lower down in her seat. 

Bog was quick to come stand beside her, however, and she felt suddenly prone and powerless from her position.

She wanted to run again.

“Alright, I’ll prep, I just need you to put your heels up on the table and then scoot down as far as you can”.

She complied, closing her eyes to try and banish the overwhelming embarrassment as the cold air chilled her, “For fuck’s sake…”

Bog’s large hand settles on her shoulder as the doctor set to work. She looked up at him, immediately grateful that he was looking back down at her and not the awkward situation below. He still looked stunned, but she felt him reaching towards her for the first time in weeks. 

“Okay, a little uncomfortable here and then we’ll have a good picture,” the doctor said.

“Dr. Florian, you’re fooling yourself if you think ANY of this is comfortable,” Marianne grumbled. 

“Well, we do our best to accommodate…”

“Yeah, well we all do. But I’ll invite you over to the hospital for a colonoscopy and then we can compare notes”.

Dr. Florian laughed heartily even as he worked. She was surprised, actually, at how easy the process was.

“Tonya, can you flip on the big monitor?”

The screen in the corner of the room blipped on, drawing Marianne’s attention and catching her breath as she knew what would come next. Her hand came up to grab Bog’s.

It was incomprehensible static for a time and the doctor typed silently away at the computer as he moved the wand. A dark area showed up, moving across the screen like a great blob. The doctor typed and the blob grew bigger before he moved the wand in a slightly more uncomfortable fashion. Something light was inside the dark blob and, as the wand was moved, rotated and became clearer.

“There we are,” Dr. Florian chimed happily.

It took Marianne a moment, but then…

“Wait, is that…?” Bog spoke first.

“Yup, your baby,” The nurse answered happily.

Indeed, the object on the screen was undeniably baby-like. A large oblong head, a body, tiny limbs. And holy shit, the limbs were moving. It was a tiny alien moving around on the screen, kicking out with twig-like legs and twitching its weird little arms. And there, in the center of its chest was a quivering little dot.

"Let’s listen in,“ The doc said and the nurse hit a switch somewhere.

Suddenly, all around them it seemed, the room resonated with the squishing, thumping, quick sound of a tiny little heartbeat. Bog’s hand squeezed over her shoulder.

"Oh my God,” she said in awe, “what the hell, it’s so fast!”

“That’s normal,” the nurse remarked.

“And you can see the little heart!” She pointed out at the screen, “Holy shit, Bog, did you see that?”

“Yeah,” He answered almost absently, “I saw it”.

The baby made a larger movement then, arching its back and shifting around in a roll.

“Active little thing,” the doctor remarked.

“What the… Is it suppose to do that? I mean, is it even suppose to look like this yet?”

“You are measuring proper for 12 weeks, yes. You’d be surprised how quickly they develop,” Dr. Florian explained, “now I’m just going to take some measurements for diagnostics, should take a few minutes..”

But Marianne’s eyes were glued on the screen, amazed that this was the life currently inside of her, impressed at every single move, suddenly cheering it on. Her hand was clasped tight over Bog’s. She wanted to know that he was looking and how he was reacting…. but she truly could not miss a second of this privileged view.

By the time they left the doctor’s office, Marianne had a dozen ultrasound pictures, an appointment to learn the sex of the baby and a brand new appreciation for what her body could do. She was practically bouncing on her way out and Bog had to stop her to make sure she put her coat on.

“I just can’t believe all of that is going on in there,” She said, gesturing to her belly as they walked out into the slow snow, “I can’t believe I put off seeing it for so long!”

“About that…” Bog slowed beside her, “Why did you avoid it?”

“I…” she thought for a moment, remembering the tension around each appointment, “I’m not really sure… maybe because I hadn’t told you yet… or I just wasn’t ready. Scared”.

“Hm,” He seemed to absorb that explanation and she turned.

“What did you think of all that?” She asked and watched as panic flashed across his face before being quickly concealed.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” He said, “It really is a baby”.

“Well, you said something about the first trimester before…” She shrugged, “I hit the second trimester next week”.

He stared down at her, his hands glued to his pockets and feet frozen to the sidewalk, “Are you… going to tell people?”

“Well, I kinda want to now… but I’ll wait till next week”.

“You don’t suppose I could hold onto one of those pictures, do you?”  
He looked away and began walking again.

“Oh Bog, of course!” She gushed, handing several of them over to him.  
He took them and tucked them away in his front pocket before bending down to plant a warm kiss against her lips.

“I have to get back now… but come to my place tonight, I’ll cook for you”.

“Sounds great,” Marianne smiled, waving as she saw him off.

It was finally happening, she thought, just as she was beginning to overflow with awareness and hope for the baby, he was beginning to feel something, surely. It felt fantastic, the prospect of them being on the same page. 

And that night, as they finally settled down in his bed spent from the day and full from the hearty meal, Bog wrapped a lazy arm around her and settled it just over her still-flat abdomen. Marianne laced her fingers through his and let out a small breath, melting back into him.

She could truly think of no greater feeling or any greater treasure. How lucky that something so unexpected was turning into something so sincerely beautiful.


	4. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually the shock of being pregnant wears off, but a certain amount of obsessiveness usually takes over in its place. It melds into life, lulling into a new normal, a new schedule.
> 
> It’s nice to settle into the reality of being pregnant, but every now and then something happens or comes along to emphasize the fact that you now view certain parts of the world in a new way. You react differently to the same old stimuli.
> 
> And it’s up to you to decide if it’s real character development on your part or just pregnancy hormones messing with your emotions.
> 
> Soooooo, Part Three!

At 16 weeks, it seemed like everybody knew. When she thought about it, she was pretty sure she had only told a few people. Her father was the first(not counting Dawn’s intuition). He was understandably shocked, angry even, demanding to see Bog and speak with him… a feat which had yet to be accomplished. Bog never necessarily bent over backwards for her father and she certainly did not expect him to. The whole idea that her dad should be angry over her choices was absolutely ridiculous. Her, an independent, stable, full-fledged doctor at the very much adult age of thirty..something.

The shock passed for him and everyone else rather quickly, however, turning into sly smiles and quiet joy. Soon she was being congratulated by people she had not even spoken to in months, patients even. She supposed it helped that she had started showing so early. A perk to being so small and doing so few abdominal workouts over the last years, she was presenting with a small round bump that made her reconsider the top button on all her pants or the resting of the waist on her scrubs. The alternative of wearing a dress wasn’t much better, as it made the bump extremely evident. 

She was getting use to the stares, suffice it to say, but was extremely tired of being extremely tired.

So it was a mystery to her, laying on a bed in the on-call room, why she chose to eat up her precious moments of rest by obsessing over the baby growing in her belly. It was made so much easier, too, since Bog supplied her with an at-home doppler that always made its way into her work bag.

Today, it was easy to find the wee thing, for a few seconds at least. It seemed every time she found the heart on the doppler, hearing that quick woab-woab-woab, there were be crunch of white noise and then it would be gone and she would have to move the wand around for long minutes trying to find the feisty kid again. It made her want to laugh, thinking of it moving away every time she prodded, like it was becoming annoyed at her. Not that she could blame it, she was annoyingly persistent at times.

She only gave up this time when her pager went off. Looking at her pager, she sighed and set down the doppler.

“You’re in luck, baby, you get a break when your momma doesn’t,” She hoisted herself out of the bunk and stashed the doppler in her bag, wiping the lube off her abdomen.

Readjusting her scrubs, she stepped out into the bright hallway with a cringe. She was met almost immediately by Dawn.

“What are you doing down here?” She asked, pulling on her coat.

“We’re working together on this one,” Her sister said a little too happily.

“How?” She asked, but began following the blonde as she pulled out her glasses and put them on, “Who?”

“Remember Gloria Mendes?”

“My first cancer patient, ovarian… why is she back? Last I heard she was in year three remission…”

“Well, she’s pregnant, hence my attending and lucky ol’ me on her service”.

Marianne smirked, “No kidding? We took one of her ovaries. She was so worried she’d have trouble conceiving with all that scar tissue…”

“That’s why we need you, though,” Dawn explained, leading her to the elevator, “With all that scarring, she is a high risk patient. Her OB sent her here when she presented with bleeding and an ultrasounds show an enlarged cyst”.

Marianne visibly shuddered at the thought, her brain moving quickly, wondering at tidbits like the size and location of the cyst, the age of the baby, the viability of the womb… Really, she should have only had to think about the cyst and if it needed to be removed, or if there was a need for an oncologist at all. She was unexpectedly worried for her patient’s pregnant state, however. She would be lying to herself to think that it had nothing to do with her own pregnancy, but she was also just very happy for her former patient. She wanted things to go well for her.

So when she walked into the room to see the woman(who had smiled brilliantly throughout her initial treatments) distraught and gaunt, Marianne’s heart ached for her.

“Doctor Fairman?” Gloria asked in a startled, shaky voice when they locked eyes, “Is the cancer back?”

“We don’t know yet,” Marianne managed to answer through the sinking feeling in her gut, “But we’re going to get to the bottom of this”.

“I don’t want to do surgery or chemo,” Gloria sobbed, “it will hurt my baby”.

“We don’t know that yet either, Gloria,” The OB surgeon, Dr. Barton, reassured with a pat on the woman’s shoulder. Marianne watched as Gloria continued to cry, wiping her face with one hand and holding her belly with the other. It was hard for Marianne to tell with the hospital gown and blanket, but she didn’t seem to be showing much yet.

“Ms. Mendes?” Marianne made her way to the patient’s other side, “How far along are you?”

She sniffed and blinked up at Marianne, “15 weeks”.

Marianne smiled, “Congratulations. I’m also expecting. 16 weeks”.

Gloria’s eyes flitted down to her belly wordlessly.

“I understand, after everything, this is terrifying. I remember you were worried about fertility and it is so amazing that you are carrying your child now," Marianne spoke in a quiet voice, a hush falling over the rest of the room, "I want to assure you, I am just here for a consultation right now. But if I am needed, I will absolutely do everything within my power to protect that little life you’re carrying. You are both Dr. Barton’s patients right now and you are in very capable hands. She will do her best to follow your wishes to the T… we just need to assess the situation first and then we will take it from there. Is that alright, Ms. Mendes?”

Gloria nodded, grabbing Marianne’s hand with a hushed “thank you”.

Marianne patted her hand and then nodded to Dr. Barton and Dawn, “If you’ll excuse us a moment, I need to confer with Dr. Barton”.

“Okay”.

They slipped out of the room quietly as Gloria steadied her breathing.

“Thank you,” Dr. Barton said as they closed the door in the hall.

“Don’t read too much into it, I was consoling a patient,” Marianne shrugged, adjusting her glasses.

Barton flinched slightly.

“I mean…” Marianne schooled herself, noticing the reception, “You are the most capable gyno surgeon here, I was just….”

“She’s bad with compliments,” Dawn whispered to her resident, “taking them AND giving them”.

Barton chuckled, “Well, thank you, nonetheless. Gloria holds you in high esteem, but she was terrified when I said I would page you for consult. You handled it beautifully”.

“You might say certain experiences have softened her…” Dawn added slyly.

Marianne shot a glare before looking back to Barton, “Charts?”

Barton handed over her tablet and Marianne swiped through the case files. When she got to the scans, she slowed down, examining the mass thoroughly. 

“Shit,” She cursed through her teeth.

“Biopsy?”

“Yes,” She sighed, reading through some more of the chart, “Normally I would recommend complete removal, but…”

“We don’t want to open her up,” Barton nodded, “We could do a laparoscopy”.

“Maybe, but it has to be soon, that baby will grow bigger every day… I was thinking, maybe we can do an FNA?”  
“FNA?” Dawn asked.  
“Fine Needle Aspiration. We guide a needle via ultrasound through the skin to take a sample of the mass,” Dr. Barton explained, “Less stress on the body, no recovery. But it has to be done with the steadiest of hands, especially since there’s a pregnant wombs centimeters away”.

“It is the ideal solution if executed properly,” Marianne said, handing the tablet back to its owner, “I think you’ll manage… but present your patient with both options”.

“You aren’t going to help?” Dawn asked.

“I’m rarely surgical,” Marianne shrugged, “I’ll sit in, but Dr. Barton has this”.

“I’m still going to take those as compliments,” Barton smiled.

“Do what you will,” Marianne waved off, “I scheduled your procedure for tomorrow”.

“What?” Dr. Barton fumbled with her tablet, “You changed my schedule?”

“There was a free slot”.

“That was my lunch!”

Marianne shrugged, already walking down the hall, “see you tomorrow at lunch, then”.

Dawn chuckled as Barton huffed.

“I can’t believe that’s YOUR sister”.

“Don’t worry,” Dawn said soothingly, “Sunny’s been practicing his puff pastries at home, so I’ll bring some in for a quick meal”.

“Bless you, sweet child…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she stepped through the apartment door that morning, Bog was pouring coffee into his thermos.

He gave her a short, disapproving look, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Nope,” Marianne answered as she plopped down on the couch, legs hanging over the arm. Bog came over and gave her knee a pat.

“Well, at least you have the day off at the clinic”.

"Yeah,“ she chuckled, "But I have a consult procedure to sit in on at one”.

“You’re kidding”.

“Nope,” Marianne poked him with one socked toe, “You would not believe this, though. This patient was my very first as an oncologist”.

“I’m sorry,” He said, coming around the couch to sit next to her head and setting his bag down on the floor, “I know how proud you were that your first case was successful”.

“Well, don’t count it out, yet, we don’t even know if it’s cancer at all,” She said, scooting down the couch until her head was in his lap, “But there is the added factor that she is pregnant…”

“Oh,” He made a thoughtful noise and began stroking her hair, “That is stressful”.

“It’s like having two patients…this is a first for me. And she’s just a week behind me”.

His petting ceased and she looked up at him. He was looking right back down at her.

“What?”

“Are you going to be able to… handle the personal aspect of this?”

Her first instinct was to become defensive, but she stuffed it down into her gut, “I think so. I mean, I’ve lost patients before. I don’t want to lose either of them, but I think I’ll be okay”.

“But you relate to this situation… even to me, it seems a bit scary,” He looked away, “You know, thinking of something similar happening… with you…”

She reached up as far as she could to pat his cheek until he was looking at her again, “That’s why doctors become so good at dissociation… Nothing bad is happening to me, Bog. We’re fine. I’ll just focus on that”.

“Okay…” he said, leaning forward and kissing her, first atop her forehead and then on the lips, “You know I worry about you…”

“Worry worry worry, like an olympic sport,” she teased with a snicker, “I can take care of myself”.

He smiled, but reached over and placed his hand atop her bump with a soft, thoughtful rub, “I worry about both of you now”.

Her heart fluttered happily in her chest and she looked down to hide the uncontrollable smile, “Don’t you have to get to work or something?”

He sighed dramatically and stood so suddenly that her head bounced down onto the couch cushion, “Yes. I have a meeting in an hour. I’ll lose everything forever if I miss it”.

“Pfft,” She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, “Have a great day today”.

“You too. Try to relax a bit somewhere in there,” He stooped down to kiss her one last time, “I love you”.

“I love you too”.

She watched him pick up his bag and thermos and head out the door with a small wave, locking it so she wouldn’t have to get up. She took a deep, grateful breath, grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch, curled up in it and set the alarm on her phone. She was asleep within moments.

She awoke half an hour before her alarm and shot up straight on the couch. Something was wrong.

She felt weird little flutters in her her belly, as if her abs were contracting or rapidly twitching. She slid her feet on the ground and rubbed her bump, trying to quiet the feeling. It stopped a few seconds later and she realized she had to pee.

“What the hell, baby”


	5. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part has less to do with pregnancy in the grand scheme of things, though it is a connecting factor, and more to do with a tendency to bury uncomfortable feelings. I’m sure we’ve all been there. 
> 
> Trying to train yourself to not react or feel the way you do is not just about insecurity. It’s about the trust you have in yourself, it’s about accepting who you are or who you are turning into.
> 
> Alternately, often simultaneously, we shut off a part of ourselves that we reason to be frivolous from fear of being judged by the people whose opinions matter to us. In doing so, we deny deeper love by not letting them see the whole picture… and we block out the help we could be receiving from the only people who can give it.
> 
> Part four!

Dawn was laughing at her. It was so annoying when she did that. It meant something was flying over her head. Or she was wrong about something. Or she was overreacting. 

“What?” She demanded, glaring at her sister as they made their way through the hospital, “Dawn, I’m being serious, it was a really weird feeling… I don’t even know how to describe it”.

“You probably used that doppler again and the baby was fine, right?”

“Well, I found the heartbeat, if that’s what you mean”.

“Oh Marianne, this is a good thing!” She explained, throwing her arms out excitedly, “You felt your baby move for the first time!”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s what it feels like,” Dawn chuckled, “Butterflies in your belly, it’s what everyone says”.

“That’s… totally weird,” Marianne stared down at her protruding belly.

“It’ll only get weirder,” Dawn assured, using her name badge to open the door to the surgical center.

“I was not prepared for this…” Marianne muttered.

“Few ever are, apparently,” Dawn shrugged as they stepped through the theater door, “Speaking of… are you scrubbing in?”

“Yeah, but I’m just here for the slides,” She replied, grabbing a hairnet and securing it on her head

“Alright then,” Dawn shrugged, snapping one her own net. She easily tied on her mask before beginning to wash up under one of the long faucets in the scrubbing area. Marianne smiled watching her little sister prep, she was becoming much more confident under the charge of Dr. Barton.

“What are you doing for the procedure?” Marianne asked, now looking through the large window into the OR as they wheeled Gloria Mendes in to be prepped as she tied on the surgical mask and lab goggles over her glasses.

“Ultrasound,” Dawn answered, still scrubbing her arms, “Thank God”.

“Afraid of a lil needling?”

“No, not really,” She shook her head, “I’ve done a couple of amnios… this is just immensely more precarious”.

“I guess,” Marianne shrugged, starting her own scrubbing, “Well, good luck. I’ll be in just after”.

“Thanks Marianne,” Dawn said with a nod as she backed into the OR, her freshly scrubbed hands held up.

Marianne sighed as she watched the scrub nurse hand Dawn a towel to dry before helping her slip on the surgical gown. It was weird watching the younger Fairman performing surgical duties, but she felt proud nonetheless.

In fact, when she backed into the OR herself and nodded at the scrub nurse, Dawn was explaining the procedure to Gloria expertly. It made Marianne excited to see how the girl could come into her own as a doctor. She could already tell her bedside manner would far exceed her own.

“…once I get a good look at the cyst, Dr.Barton will numb you a little bit and begin the procedure. I will help her by tracking the needle so it goes precisely where we want it and not a millimeter off. It’ll only take a minute and then the needle comes out and I will get a good look at that baby and show you so you know the little one is fine, alright?”

“The numbing won’t hurt the baby?”

“It’s local, so it will not be transferred through your blood. The baby will be none the wiser”.

“Okay…”

“Now I will ask you to help us by taking steady, slow breaths. Can you do that for us?”

“Yeah”.

“Thank you, Gloria. I’m going to start the ultrasound now. I’m sure you know the drill on this part by now”.

Gloria chuckled in agreement. Marianne spun as the nurse held the bottom of the gown tag to tighten it and then tied it off at her side with her now gloved hand. She moved towards the slide prep area, keeping her front facing Gloria and the microscope between them as she stood waiting with her hands grasping the front of her gown.

Dawn moved effortlessly as she did the ultrasound on Gloria. Marianne’s eyes drifted to the monitor and she smiled in recognition as the baby became visible.

“Baby looks good,” Dawn said, leaning over to Gloria a little.

She moved the wand away quickly, however, and began scanning for the ovaries.

It was painfully obvious when she found what she needed. Both Marianne and Dr. Barton, who stood beside Dawn, sucked in sharp breaths.

The cyst was bigger than the scans they had the day before and appeared to be stretched to the base of the tube. It was a bad sign.

As they proceeded with the procedure, Marianne kept telling herself that it could just be from a hormone fluctuation. Maybe the cyst would go down on its own given time, benign and harmless.

Dawn kept the wand steady as the needle moved in slowly on the screen. It pierced the cyst at the bulbous end opposite the tube and then sawed back and forth a few times until there was an adequate draw of tissue.

“Okay, I’m pulling it out now,” Barton advised the room. A nursed moved forward with the tray of slides and Barton carefully deposited the sample from the needle onto each of the three slides, before setting the tool down and twisting back toward Gloria to clean up.

The nurse stepped back till she was beside Marianne. She set the tray down on the tall tabletop and Marianne set straight to work on the slides, smearing the samples quickly and then nodding to the nurse, who picked up the fan and started drying the slides.

Marianne shifted her gaze back to Dawn, who was showing Gloria the baby with a big smile on her face. She could barely hear the happy giggle over the sound of the dryer, but it painted a surreal reality for her. She was keenly aware of this patient, as clinically as she tried to envision this case. She felt so much humanity in this moment… she felt so small, but so important.

As they finally wheeled Gloria out, Marianne pondered at how foreign this all was for her, after all these years of being good at her job and disconnected from people. She couldn’t help but think that this could only end badly.

“Slides are dry,” The nurse said, turning the fan off.

Marianne took the first slide and turned to the first set of prepping jars, dipping the slide in fixing fluid and then continuing on to the stains and washes. She started all over again with the next slide, methodically working whilst trying to clear her brain of the bubbling emotions.

As she dipped the last slide into its wash, rinsing the extra stain off, she felt the baby move again, a small flutter in her gut, just enough to make her pause before pulling the slide out of the bath. Why now? Why remind her now?

She was grateful when she was able to finally sit down in front of the powerful microscope and place her prepared slides beneath the lens. But it came crashing down on her even harder when her previous suspicions were confirmed by the jagged, uneven edges of various sized cells. The bottom of her gut seemed to drop out beneath her and the baby fluttered once more.

She shoved away from the desk quickly and tore her goggles off. The nurse rushed to her side, a confused look in her eyes beneath the mask.

“Get these slides to the Pathologist,” Marianne ordered, standing and hurrying to the bin. She snapped her gown off and rolled it forward and away from her, tossing it away before peeling off her gloves, skin-to-skin, glove-to-glove, and tossing it.

She rushed out of the OR, still fumbling with her mask. She had to get out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

She knew the second she opened the door that Griselda was there. She could smell a hearty meal stewing from the kitchen that could by no means be made by Bog’s hands. It wasn’t a big surprise, Griselda had frequented this apartment almost as much as Marianne ever since Bog showed her the ultrasound pictures. She was predictably thrilled at the turn of events.

At least some people were clear and evident on their feelings about such things upfront.

“Oh sweetie, I was hoping you’d be by!” Griselda hurried, taking Marianne’s bag and pulling off her coat before she could even protest.

“Is Bog here?” Marianne asked, taking her shoes off as Griselda hung up her things.

“Oh no, his wall calendar had a sales meeting across town, he probably won’t be back for a few hours,” Giselda shrugged and then, like always, gravitated towards the bump, “How’s my little grandbaby today?”

“Active, probably hates me,” Marianne sighed.

“Wait, are you… can you feel it?” Giselda’s face split with a wide smile.

“Apparently,” Marianne chuckled as they moved towards the kitchen.

“How wonderful! I was hoping it would be soon,” Griselda made her way into the kitchen and stirred a large pot as Marianne took a seat on a barstool at the counter, “Are you hungry, dear?”

“Starving, actually,” She realized she had forgotten to eat all day.

“Good, good,” She ladled some soup out of the pot and into a bowl and placed it in front of Marianne with a spoon, “I made potage parmentier… oh and biscuits!”

She quickly placed a small plate next to the bowl and plopped down a duo of lumpy, buttery biscuits that Marianne just stared at for a moment.

“Well, c'mon now, eat,” Griselda prodded with a wave of her hand.

Marianne’s stomach made a lurch of concurrence before she picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the grainy pale soup. She blew on it a little before taking her bite. It was heavenly and warm, the perfect mixture of seasoned potatoes and leeks, the ultimate comfort food for a cold day. It awakened in her the true hunger that she had been putting off and she immediately dove her spoon in for more, fervently scooping it into her mouth, though it did burn a little. She paused only to take up one of those hearty rolls and break it apart, dipping it into the soup before devouring it in big bites.

It warmed her, inside and out, thawing what she had allowed and encouraged to remain frozen throughout the day. Gratitude and pain quelled up in her chest simultaneous and harmonious despite the heady contrast.

By the time she polished off the bowl, her eyes were brimming with confused tears.

“Dearie!” Griselda had been cleaning up the mess she had made cooking, but turned when she heard the spoon hit an empty bowl, “What on earth is wrong?”

“Hormones?” Marianne shrugged.

“Then those better be tears of joy at eating such a lovely meal”.

Marianne tried to smile, but found herself sinking down towards the counter with a shuddering breath and removing her glasses.

“Now, this won’t do,” Griselda came and scrambled up onto the barstool beside Marianne, “What has you bothered?”

“Nothing that makes sense,” Marianne admitted, flipping her spectacles on the counter, “It’s ridiculous…”

Giselda huffed out a laugh, “Maybe so, many emotions are… but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t matter”.

Marianne buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back the crying, “I, well, I have this patient…”

“Yes?”

“She used to be my patient, years back, she was in remission…. she’s not officially my patient again, but I found out today that she will be”.

“Oh dear…”

“But see, I’m use to this!” Marianne argued with herself, “I have patients who come back time after time, that’s just how it is!”

“And this one is different”.

“She’s pregnant,” Marianne nodded, “Just a week behind me… I told myself it wouldn’t matter, but…”

“You can’t order yourself not to care,” Griselda offered.

“I don’t like it,” Marianne said, “I always work on the case, I always work to solve the problem, to help people with cancer, that’s it. I care about saving them from this beast that I know how to battle…. but this…”

“Are you worried about the baby?”

“I’m worried about everything!” Marianne admitted, “I’m worried about the little moments, the big ones, the cancer, the mother, the child… I’m worried about this woman’s experience”.

“You’re connected to this case, darling”.

“I don’t want to be,” Marianne protested again, “In the OR today, it was different… it’s suppose to be charged, purposeful, clinical. I am suppose to focus on the task and accomplishing it, working towards the greater end…. but it was so personal, intimate. I could feel the people in that room. I could see them and not just the task”.

“And what happened?”

“I feel that and then come to find out that the patient has an aggressive, cancerous tumor that she had already requested we not operate on…. But it will kill her child, quickly, if we do nothing. She has to have surgery, she has to endanger her child either way”.

Griselda stayed quiet at that, but placed a hand on Marianne’s shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” Marianne sobbed, tears finally falling in large drops, spilling from her bottom lids uncontrollably, “It’s just not fair…”

“I can’t imagine,” Griselda gave her a soft pat, “But don’t you think your patient is better off with a compassionate doctor like you?”

“Compassion?”

“That is typically what it’s called, yes”.

“But what if it all goes wrong? What if the cancer wins and I am still feeling like this?”

“Then it will suck, and it will hurt,” Griselda shrugged, “Jeez, what is it with you and my son and your aversion to feeling things?”

Marianne chortled, wiping at her eyes.

“It’s not bad to be connected to someone and it’s not wrong to be sad when they get hurt,” Griselda continued on, “Sure, you try and reserve those feelings for a select few, but if your affection spreads, don’t stop it. Don’t stop the love you can feel for people just because you are afraid of getting hurt. There are many kinds of love and they are all good”.

“But it’s my job”.

“So navigate that, but if you push it down, it will hurt you for so much longer. If you acknowledge it and work through it, you will be better for it,” She paused for a moment, “Have you talked to Bog about this?”

“I…” Marianne looked over at Griselda with panic-ridden features, “…told him about the patient”.

“But have you TALKED?”

“He was worried… I told him I’d be fine”.

“Oh honey…”

“Don’t tell Bog about this stupid outburst,” Marianne pleaded, “He won’t understand…He’ll just want me to give up the case, because he was right”.

“He loves you. You should be talking to him, not me”.

“He loves the me before… I don’t even recognize all this in me and he won’t see reason in it. It’s not worth bothering him with,” Marianne explained, “So please, just don’t tell him about this”.

Griselda furrowed her brows thoughtfully before letting out a sad sigh, “I will keep this between us… but you should not bottle this. And you certainly should not hide your feelings from the father of your child. It’s not healthy. For anyone”.

Marianne let out a long breath, staring down at her glasses. She was filled with dread and regret at ever opening her mouth about this. Moreover, there was a guilt in there, at keeping this from Bog.

“I know”.

But she was so sure that it was nothing. An irrational feeling brought on by lack of sleep and pregnancy. The edge of it would pass and then there would be nothing to worry over or talk about aside from the vague connection she shared with her patient.

It would go away. It would have to go away.


	6. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this is getting more medical than I had originally planned, but hey, when in Rome. That said, I am doing the broad strokes on the intricacies of these medical situations. This is not an accurate depiction. It’s just kinda close.
> 
> I don’t have much to say message-wise this time… most of this part is story development. And there is a LOT developing.
> 
> So get to it, part five.

Gloria vehemently refused the surgery when Dr. Barton presented her with pathologist report and prognosis. She was told all her options and odds, explained the risks… but she refused treatment.

Nevertheless, she became one of Marianne’s patients. Treatment or not, she still had cancer and she still had to be monitored. She still needed her oncologist.

Marianne saw no sense in it, but she had enough self-awareness to know that she was biased to always favor aggressive treatment. And if she thought hard enough on it, she understood the intention, the fear… she still found no sense in it.

She saw her on rounds at the hospital every morning, bright and early before her appointments at the clinic. She would come by, run the chart, ask her how she felt, order more ultrasounds, check the last ones…. Each day, Gloria would say less and look away more.

By the end of the first week, she was no longer speaking and averted her gaze to the window. She had shut down, Marianne had seen this before in patients when treatments were taking too long or no longer working. The deep, grieving depression of someone who saw the sharp drop off at the end of the road approaching, a dark abyss awaiting them beneath. They become engulfed, stripped of themselves, bitter and vile to those around them who engaged.

Marianne knew all this, she knew better, and yet she engaged. 

“What is your end game here?” Marianne asked, setting the chart down hard on the rolling tabletop, the top page of which revealed the latest ultrasound and the evidence of the tumor having doubled in size.

Gloria only glared out the window, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in greasy waves.

“What is it going to prove to let this tumor grow and grow,” Marianne moved to the side of the bed, trying to get her attention, “You said you don’t want to hurt your baby, but this tumor is already hurting it”.

Still nothing. 

Marianne grabbed the chart up and presented the top scan, “Look at this. Look at it”.

Gloria let out a huff, but her eyes shifted in her direction.

“This tumor is your only enemy right now, everyone else is on your side,” Marianne explained, “The longer you put this off, the worse off you and your child will be. And if you do nothing, you both die. This tumor is aggressive and we have to be too or it will spread, you will rupture, lose the baby and bleed out”

“Good,” Gloria seethed.

“What?”

“Let me die…” She finally looked to Marianne defiantly, crying, “All I wanted was to have children, my whole life… I worked hard to build my career, become stable, I stayed healthy. And then I got cancer, a cancer reserved for post-menopausal women who don’t need their ovaries anymore! And I lost one of mine and, by some miracle, I was able to finally get pregnant… and then I get cancer again. And I have lost my other ovary to it and I will lose my child treating it and I just can’t… I can’t do this if I lose everything I ever wanted, every chance for that…”

“You still have that chance! We can protect your child, we can even protect your uterus. You could use an egg donor, do IVF!” Marianne explained, throwing her arms forward, “We can do literally anything at this point and save you some of that grief. More importantly, we can save THIS child, now, if you just let us”.

Gloria shook her head through her silent sobs.

“You worked hard for this,” Marianne said, reaching out and covering one of Gloria’s tightened fists with her own hand, “Let me work hard for you”.

Gloria broke down, sobbing and holding her abdomen, “I’m just… so scared of losing everything”.

Marianne watched her patient with wide eyes, subconsciously retracting her hand to place it on her own baby bump.

“I’m scared too”.

She didn’t mean to say it, but she meant it.

"Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I was scared,“ Marianne continued, "I didn’t plan for this… which probably seems very unfair to you… I had no idea I wanted this until it was happening and the uncertainty is still terrifying”.

Gloria was looking at her now, so she continued.

“But what terrifies me most is how helpless I feel in protecting my own kid,” she confided, “I don’t know what will happen… and it scares me more to know you, my patient. To see you both in danger, to be able to help you, but not allowed. I am scared for you. I am scared for your baby”.

She grabbed up the chart from the bed and readjusted her coat and glasses. Gloria was watching her mesmerized now, but she moved towards the door, feeling she had already crossed quite a few lines. She stopped with her hand on the handle, however, and turned back around, clutching the chart to her chest.

“Just, please, let me help you”.

With that she left, closing the door after her, and quickly made her way to the nurse’s station. She dropped the chart down onto the counter with a long breath and shook her head before addressing the nurse.

“Another round of ultrasounds and I wanna start her on antidepressants, but have psych down to-”

A hard pull low in her pelvis stopped her mid-sentence and she lurched forward, grasping her bump.

“Dr. Fairman?” The nurse stood and looked over the counter at her, “Are you alright”.

“Yeah,” Marianne replied, rubbing the area and standing straight again, “Just growing pains, I guess”.

The nurse looked her up and down before taking the chart, “You should get off your feet, doctor. Things get a bit more taxing as you get bigger”.

“…I’m only 17 weeks,” Marianne protested, pushing her glasses up in irritation.

“Coulda fooled me,” The nurse shrugged and then set back to work.

“What…” Marianne scoffed, “The nurses at this hospital, I swear…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had lunch in her clinic that day, exhausted and sore. She couldn’t stop going over every last word she had said to Gloria. It made her sick to think about it, stress over it. But she couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop feeling like everything she was doing lately was wrong.

She only made it through half of a gyro with her feet propped up on her desk before her office door burst open and Dawn bounced in, a parcel cradled in one arm.

“Marianne, you’re amazing!”

“Yeah, I know,” She said, setting her food down on the desk, “But… why?”

“How did you convince Ms. Mendes to pursue treatment?” Dawn asked, setting the box down by Marianne’s feet.

“What?”

“Yeah, she started talking today, really talking. She told us what she was scared of, what she wanted… She’s ready to talk about the options,” Dawn explained happily, leaning down over the desk, “She said she wants to talk about them with you”.

“Wow,” Marianne folded her hands over her abdomen, “That’s something…”

“What did you say to her?” Dawn asked, taking a seat atop the desk.

“I, uh,” Marianne looked down at her thumbs as she tapped them together, “I gave her a guilt trip”.

“You what?” Dawn laughed.

“Well, she was just giving up! I was careful around her all week and it was just getting worse,” Marianne defended, swinging her legs down and scooting her chair forward, “Ooh is that a bakery box? What’s in it?”

Dawn grabbed up the box before Marianne reached it, “Something Sunny made… for a GOOD doctor!”

“I am a good doctor! My patient is accepting treatment!”

“Because you’re a mean doctor…”

“I’m saving her baby, that makes me a nice doctor. What. is in. the box?”

Dawn let out a sigh and scooted the box across the tabletop, popping the lid open, “Mini pumpkin cheesecakes”.

“Holy shit,” Marianne reached in and grabbed one of the small circles out, peeling away the wrapper from the sides, “Sunny is amazing. You’re a bad person for keeping these from me. And I’m eating all of these and not sharing”.

She stuffed one in her mouth, biting it in half before sinking back into her seat to savor it.

“See? Mean doctor,” Dawn stuck out her tongue, “So, what’s your plan for treatment?”

Marianne finished swallowing before she spoke, “I’ll pitch her chemo or surgery”.

"That will be one crowded O.R. Who do you want to do the procedure?“

"Well, staging is going to be a bitch, we can’t dissect or remove the uterus at this stage. We’ll have to take a cell wash and then biopsy the nodes and omentum, scar tissue… Debulking could be easy, could also be a bitch… won’t know until we’re in there,” Marianne ate the other half of the cheesecake thoughtfully.

“She is not going to go for getting sliced that far…” Dawn sighed, “Can’t you do a laparoscopy?”

“It will be near impossible to stage with such a minimal scope,” She responded, wiping crumbs off the top of her shirt, “And if I were doing the debulking, I would want to see every fiber of this tumor to get as much as possible the first go round”.

“So why don’t you?” Dawn asked, “Why not do the surgery yourself?”

“I…” she croaked, “Well, I mean we need a whole team… and I’m not technically a surgeon”.

“You were a surgical resident,” Dawn stated matter-of-factly.

“And now I’m a medical doctor with a clinic,” Marianne argued, leaning forward to grab another pastry, “I evolved, I treat the whole person, not just cut em open”.

“Oh, pshh,” Dawn rolled her eyes, “Surgery is badass”.

“Ugh, you sound just like a starstruck intern…” Marianne took another bite, “We have to cut her open, though, the tumor is growing too fast. We need to stage it and figure out just how many surgeries she can or cannot take before that baby is delivered”.

“So… what’s the first step?”

“Pelvic MRI… now and the day of surgery”.

“And chemo?“

"It’s an eventuality, but this thing needs debulking, like, yesterday,” She shoved the rest of the cake in her mouth.

"It could slow down the growth".

“I need eyes on it,” Marianne explained, “I need to know how much time it will take to stop this or if its too late”.

"The MRI…“

"No, it’s not good enough…” She stared down at her hands again, flexing her fingers together, “Damn… I need to cut her open”.

She stood then and hurried to grab her coat and phone.

“You’re going now?”

“You’re coming with me,” Marianne motioned, “We are getting a surgical team together, rushing the MRI, and booking an OR. Call Dr. Barton, tell her to call Peds and- Ah!”

She stopped at her door as the strong pull from earlier returned, joined by a sharp cramping sensation. It seemed to throb for a moment as she braced herself against the door.

“Marianne! Are you okay?”

She rubbed the bump a little as the feeling lightened to a dull strain. She let out a long breath.

“I’m… yeah, I’m fine,” Marianne shook her head, “Just Braxton Hicks… or too much cheesecake”.

"Are you sure? I mean, we can-“

"No, let’s just get this done,” Marianne headed out the door and addressed the receptionist, “Push the afternoon appointments back to my next free day. I’ll be out for the remainder of today”.

The girl nodded and picked up her phone as Marianne turned to leave. Dawn was still watching her with concern, but she would deal with that later.

Because, for once, she could actually do something about that dark feeling that had settled over this case.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

She snuck in late that night, kicking off her shoes with extreme prejudice and dropping her coat on the floor. She stumbled to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, chugging it and then putting the glass in the sink. 

She groaned as she looked over the dark apartment. She had not planned on staying out that late, especially since she told Bog she would be home for dinner.

Home. She had been calling it home so often in the last weeks. Was that true? Was she moving in?

Hell, she had come here even though she knew Bog would be asleep, even though she could have just gone to her apartment. She felt as if she had treated getting pregnant like an all-access pass…

She shook her head rapidly. It was too late for this introspection and all she really wanted to do was take off her pants, crawl into Bog’s bed, and snuggle up to him. So that’s what she did. She ditched her pants in the living room and snuck into the bedroom as quietly as she could. 

Bog was spread across his bed awkwardly, as was usual with his tall frame. Lucky for her, there was always a nook in there just large enough for her short self to fit into.

She slid onto the bed. The shift of weight caused Bog to shift, waking up. Of course.

“Did you just get in?” He asked with that deliciously raspy half-asleep voice.

“Yup,” She said quietly, sinking to the bed as Bog adjusted his position for her. 

He held his arm out as he shifted onto his back and she settled beneath it, hugging him across the chest.

“Long day?” He asked, adjusting the sheet to cover her before settling his hands on her shoulder and the hand on his chest.

“The longest,” She rubbed the side of her face into his bare chest, breathing in his warm scent, “But in a good way”.

“Oh yeah?”

"Yeah,“ she smiled, "I got my pregnant patient to agree to surgery put together a whole team and have an OR booked for tomorrow”.

“That’s great…” He said groggily, but then paused, “Wait, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it took some string-pulling to get everybody lined up, but I’ve got a solid 6 hours lined up to get this done”.

“You have an appointment tomorrow,” Bog sighed.

“What, no, that’s next week…”

“No, it’s tomorrow. They have to measure the baby and…” He shook his head, “Did you really forget? You’re 18 weeks now”.

“Ohh… shit, we’re suppose to find out the sex tomorrow,” She groaned, turning onto her back, “I can’t believe I forgot. What time?”

“Three,” He answered, “I took off the afternoon from work…”

“That’s perfect, though, I can be there,” She looked up at him, he was staring up at the ceiling, “I’m sorry, Bog, I’ve just been so busy and-”

“You need to take care of yourself, Marianne,” Bog interrupted, “I need you to take care of yourself. That’s all”.

He looked down at her, blue eyes filled with love and concern. She found herself staring into them just as hard as he was staring into hers.

The rest of the world, all that stuff, the surgery, the patients, the confusing feelings, the prickly crap that tangled into her brain and twisted into her chest, loosened and fell away. And then, she just wanted to be here, immersed in him, in his life, know his days, and hold him at night, just like this.

She smiled, burrowing into his side once more and gripping him tight. She just wanted to melt into him and stay that way. Safe and understood.

“Thank you,” she whispered, meaning it with all her heart, “I love you so much”.

He shifted slightly to his side to face her, wrapping his other arm around her and stroking her back, “I love you too”.

She pressed her forehead into him, matching their breaths together as he enveloped her. She drifted off. 

She awoke an hour later to the strong squeezing pelvic pain she had experienced earlier in the day. 

“Ah…” She curled forward, grabbing herself around the middle as the spasm seemed to tie her up inside. She sucked in a hard breath, rubbing her legs together. Nausea bubbled up from her gut, making her mouth water and tingle.

Bog moved, groaning as he shifted around her writhing body. She stilled, straightening her legs as the spasm softened and stopped. She let out a long breath, careful to keep it quiet. 

She lay still until she was sure Bog was asleep and then rubbed her belly slowly. She was sure now, she would have to talk to her OB about this. Surely it could wait until the appointment.

“C'mon kid,” she whispered down to it, “Just give me a day…”


	7. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first things first, this chapter involves blood and surgery and hospitals and trauma. You have been warned.
> 
> In pregnancy, nothing is certain, things can change in a blink of an eye. And it can get out of hand if you are not attuned to your body. First pregnancies can be especially hard, because there are some feelings you can only recognize from experience.
> 
> Part six!

Marianne use to love surgery. She spent years being a competitive, defensive bitch about it.

She outgrew that. Well, the competitive part, at least.

She kept up on it for all intents and purposes, it was a huge part of treating cancer, after all. She still did procedures, once a week if she counted stints and ports. A real surgeon wouldn’t, of course.

She never felt like a surgeon, though, so that was alright. She was medical and she was happy about that.

Today, however, she really, sincerely, wished she had stuck with surgery.

She had stayed so late the night before because she was watching videos, reading case studies, even practicing her cuts and stitches. It all came to her easily enough. But it never felt like enough.

Which is why she stood, frozen in front of the freshly opened patient with a swarm of surgeons around her working on staging. She watched closely as they moved carefully to biopsy the nodes and wash the organs, suctioning the fluid for further testing.

It was so crowded… not just the O.R., but the body. The pelvic cavity usually was, that’s why intestines had to be moved out, organs rearranged, but with a 17 week fetus and womb, it was incredible how little room they had to get a good look at things. With the wash, it took several hours just for them to work long enough for her to get eyes on the tumor.

It was incredibly uncomfortable, much more than she had imagined. She was sore all over, still recovering from the several instances in which she had woken up during the night with the painful pulling. It was a dull, constant squeeze now. Surely that was a good sign.

In the back of her head was the niggling thought that she had not tried to find the fetal heartbeat in almost a week.

But right now, she had a patient in front of her- TWO patients. They were her priority in this moment, they were what was at the forefront of her thoughts.

The surgical plan was good, it was consistent, the team was solid. The tumor was daunting. But she picked up her instruments anyways and Dr. Barton prepped the tumor…

“Clamping,” Dr. Barton said, “I’ll prop the womb and you can begin…”

Marianne took a deep breath and stepped forward as Dr. Barton held the womb in her hands. It was almost breathtaking, thinking about it, but she had a job to do.

“Beginning mobilization of the Sigmoid Colon,” She said, and moved carefully into the cavity with her blade and cauterizer. The rest of her was shut away in her mind.

For the two hours, her life was just her hands, instruments, patients, and tumor. She worked meticulously, making sure she was sure ten times over before she made a cut, looking up every few minutes to check Gloria’s monitor and then the fetal monitor.

Once she had successfully recessed the fallopian tube from the uterus, her most stressful step, she removed the ovary and placed it in the tray provided. She let out a long breath and searched once more for signs of cancerous cells and then took a biopsy of the colon.

As she was stitching up, Dr. Barton searched the uterus.

“Um, Dr. Fairman?” She said, making Marianne’s gut sink, “Can you look at this? On the other fallopian stump, there seems to be…”

“Yeah, I see it,” She sighed, removing her hands and depositing them on the tray. She leaned over to get a better look at the tissue on the enlarged uterus. There was the old scar tissue, that was bad enough, but there was a thin growth spreading along its edges, darkening the stump.

“Damnit,” Marianne hissed, “Dr. Barton, can you scrape it?”

“The wash will have to do for a biopsy”.

“I am not asking for a biopsy, I’m asking if you can remove it,” Marianne snapped.

“Well… no. No, I can’t. Between the scar tissue and the pregnancy, there’s too high a probability of a bleed or tear, it’s too risky for the fetus,” Dr Barton explained.

“Shit…” Marianne stood back. Dr. Barton was right.

She stood and stared a moment longer, trying to come up with a plan, when suddenly, the uterus moved. A wiggle and a shift, and a stark impression of a tiny little arm pressing out against the organ. The baby was moving and she was seeing it, in intense detail. A tiny little life right there on her O.R. table. Reminding her…

“Okay,” She nodded, still staring as she watched it move, “Let’s close up and place a port”.

She worked patiently, wishing she could rush, but wanting to be thorough. When she was reminded, watching that tiny thing move, she was reminded that she was pregnant. And then she was reminded that her belly was tight. That she was in pain. That something was wrong.

“Dawn?” She asked, another hour later as she was putting staples in.

“Uh, yes, Dr. Fairman?” Dawn asked, taking a step forward from her spot observing.

“I need you to get my phone out of the locker and call Bog, tell him to meet me here”.

“What?”

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Uh, 3:23”.

“Damnit, he might have gone back to work”.

“What is going on?” Dawn asked, a slight tremor to her voice. Dawn always knew.

“Call. Bog,” She ordered.

“Okay,” She said. Marianne listened as she hurried out and the door closed again. She placed the last staple and started dressing.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured to the room, “Good job everybody. We’re done for now”.

She listened as surgeons reciprocated the notion and filed out of the room as she continued to cover and tape the incision area. Nurses began counting supplies and sponges and tools while she worked. When she was done, she nodded to the anesthesiologist and nurses and orderlies in charge of her transport and post-op and stepped away from her patient.

She scrubbed out quickly and made her way out of the surgical wing.

“Marianne, I got your phone and called Bog, but he wouldn’t answer,” Dawn jogged up to her from a nurse’s station, “What is going on?”

“Dawn,” Marianne let out a long breath, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder, “I need to go to your wing… f-find me a doctor, an OB…”

Dawn’s eyes widened in terrified recognition as Marianne curled forward, grabbing herself around the middle with a seethe.

“Yes, okay, we’re…” Dawn grabbed her arm and propped her up, “No, we’ll take a room here and…” She motioned to one of the nurses quickly, “Page Dr. Barton! Get us ultrasound and a cart!”

Dawn moved her into a room somewhere and propped her onto a bed.

“You need to drink some water,” Dawn hurried around the room until she found a cup and filled it.

Marianne leaned back on the bed, trying to find any position that might hurt just a little less. It was becoming excruciating, radiating down through her pelvic floor and around to her back. Dawn presented the cup and Marianne took it, drinking it like her life depended on it, as it spilt down her chin.

Her child’s life might depend on it.

An eternity of pain and ‘oh god what did I do?’ seemed to pass until Dr. Barton rushed into the room.

“What the hell happened? We were just in the O.R.” She rushed up to Marianne’s side.

“Pain, lots of pulling a squeezing…” Marianne tried to explain as she shifted and writhed.

“How long?” Barton lifted up her scrub top and started feeling and prodding around.

“Ow!” Marianne lurched forward at a particularly sensitive prod.

“That hurt?” Barton didn’t really ask, but her voice changed in a way that horrified Marianne, “How long?”

"Yesterday,“ She breathed.

"You didn’t say anything!” Dawn cried.

“Where is the ultrasound?” Barton snapped at the blonde.

“Here,” A nurse carted the machine in and Dr. Barton adjusted the scrubs, pulling at the bottoms.

“You…” She stopped, her hand over the seam of the pants, “You’re bleeding”.

“What?” Marianne sat up to look down, but Barton pushed her back, “No, nonono… Why?”

“I’ll…” Dawn was shifting from foot to foot behind Dr. Barton, her eyes welling up, “I’ll call Bog again… I’ll try his work”.

She darted from the room, leaving as Barton squeezed gel onto Marianne and switched on the ultrasound. A sharp pain shot through Marianne as the scan began and she could not stop herself from crying out. She could feel it now, the bleeding passing through her.

“Okay okay, c'mon,” Dr Barton spoke under her breath, “Ah, there, there! Your baby is moving, heartbeat…. But you’re contracting and bleeding….Oh”.

“Oh?” Marianne craned to see the monitor, but all she could make out was her baby, still moving.

“There’s a… placental abruption… I don’t know what came first, this or the pre-term labor. I need to examine you. Slide down the bed, please”.

“Pre-term labor?” She gripped the sheets at her sides, “Why? I’m only 18 weeks, I…”

“Marianne, please,” Barton using her first name snapped her attention back, “I need to examine you”.

With a shuddering breath, she nodded and then scooted down to the end of the bed. Barton draped a blanket over her before taking off her bottoms and beginning her exam.

Marianne shuddered and stared up at the ceiling, pulling her glasses off as her eyes blurred. A clammy, dry chill swept over her body and she held herself, trying to steady her breathing.

“Please,” she croaked out, “Tell me what’s wrong, what can we do?”

Dr. Barton put the blanket back down and moved away from Marianne, tearing off blood-covered gloves and throwing them in the bin. When she turned back around, her look was grave.

“Marianne, you are dilated and losing a lot of blood,” She explained, “I am admitting you”.

Marianne shook her head, “No, no… I can’t, I… can’t you just…”

“I need to monitor you and the baby to know the extent of the tear, you can’t leave,” Barton stated, “You can’t even get up right now, do you understand?”

Marianne just stared at her, shaking.

Just yesterday she was happy, she was making progress on her case, she was getting some sort of sense of herself again.

Just yesterday she was safe. And now?

Now, someone was rolling another bed into the room to transport her to someplace with more machines and less certainty. Now she was in premature labor and growing colder as she bled.

She knew what that meant. She knew if she was bleeding out, there was probably a full abruption. And if there was a full abruption, the baby would not be getting enough oxygen. And if the baby was not getting enough oxygen…

“I can’t get hold of Bog!” Dawn was back in the room just as Marianne was being moved, “Wh- you’re hemorrhaging?”

“Dawn,” Barton warned. But her sister’s eyes were already red and terrified.

“Keep trying,” Marianne instructed, reaching out for her sister’s hand as she was wheeled towards the door, the room spinning around.

Dawn nodded, squeezing Marianne’s hand.

“I need Bog”.

Somewhere down the hall, as she watched the ceiling scrolling past, she lost consciousness.


	8. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was.... hard.
> 
> I feel like I'm about to piss some people off and lose readers, but... this chapter pretty much explains why this was a "therapy" fic for me.

Marianne had a simple dream. So simple and normal, in fact, that it could have very well been her day, had she not known better. Despite her wishes, she was a somewhat lucid dreamer, so the fantasy could only take her so far. If it were up to her, she would be completely immersed in it with no feeling to tie her to the outside world.

She had gotten out of surgery earlier than before, but still had to rush to her appointment. Bog met her there with only slight annoyance at having waited, but her wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked into the office and signed in.

As they sat in the waiting area, she explained her day to him and he was happy for her. She had done what was needed without complications. Regardless of what came next for the patient, it was a win. She sat back in her seat and rested her head against his shoulder until they were called back.

The dream skipped a few steps and she was on the table getting scanned. Bog stood beside her, holding her hand, stroking it with his thumb as they watched. The ultrasound was very slow for some reason.

She just enjoyed being there, with Bog holding onto her, knowing the baby was okay and they were about to find out what it was. It didn’t really matter, but she had decided weeks ago that she would buy one thing once she knew. Just one single item, probably socks or something small.

"I want this to be real,“ she said in the dream as they searched for the baby in her seemingly endless uterus, "I want it to stay like this”.

Nobody spoke back to her, she knew she was unheard in her subconscious. She knew her brain was trying to cope, trying to calm her. She knew that this could be a good sign or this coud make everything feel so much worse.

"There we go,“ The faceless ultrasound tech finally said, "The baby…”

"The baby what?“ Marianne asked.

The screen was a blur, everything was, but Bog’s hand held onto her tight.

"The patient… bleeding…”

Oh God, it was ending, reality was knocking at her door, the truth was waiting for her on the other side. She didn’t want to leave yet.

It wasn’t up to her. The room went black.

"…applied a transfusion. Medication was given to slow the bleeding, but the placenta will have to be delivered to stop it. Monitoring of the fetus showed…“

"Wait…” Marianne protested groggily, trying to open her eyes.

"Marianne…“ Her sister said next to her. She knew now that she had been holding her hand.

She blinked her eyes open and looked around the room, feeling just loopy enough to know she was drugged. There was Dawn beside her and an IV in her arm. Dr. Barton stood at the foot of her bed with a couple of interns around her, looking slightly alarmed at Mariannes sudden awakening.

Marianne went to sit up, but was overcome with lethargy in her every limb.

"Where’s Bog?” She asked. Dawn’s hand squeezed tighter.

"He’s on his way,“ She promised, "But he’s stuck on the highway, there was a crash from all the ice… he’s trying to get here”.

"Ice?“ Marianne shook her head, "There was a storm?”

Dr. Barton nodded to the window. Marianne noticed first that it was dark outside now, but heavy globs of snow were falling rapidly under the parking lamp outside. She figured it might have started when she was in surgery, but she had definitely been under a while.

"What happened?“ She asked, looking to Barton. Dawn’s other hand moved to envelope Marianne’s.

Dr. Barton cleared her throat and then dismissed the interns, who filed out respectfully. She then looked to Marianne, gripping the end of her bed resolutely.

"You presented with Placental Abruption and went into pre-term labor. Because of the severity of the tear, you began to bleed out rapidly. We stabilized you with a transfusion and worked to stop your bleeding and labor. We haven’t been successful…”

"So, I’m still bleeding? How do we stop it?“

"The only way to stop it is to deliver the placenta”.

"We can’t do that, the baby would have to be delivered too, it’s not old enough…“

The room went quiet and suddenly their eyes were averted, the air thick with an unspoken agony. It was very unprofessional.

"Just fucking tell me,” She demanded.

Dr. Barton sighed and looked down at the sheets, “We were monitoring the baby. At first, it was unclear the extent of the abruption, so the neonatal specialist was in here tracking the heart rate and position. As your transfusion progressed, the baby’s heart rate began to slow,”

Marianne’s chest fluttered, her face feeling suddenly numb. She could only stare at Dr. Barton.

"Once the transfusion was complete, we ran another ultrasound and confirmed a complete separation of the placenta. An hour later, the fetal heart rate had fallen below 60 and then we lost it. An additional ultrasound confirmed no movement and… no heartbeat".

Vaguely, she realized that Dawn was crying. She could not move to look, however.

"The choice remains… we have to get the placenta out to try and control the bleeding. We can perform a cesarean, but at this stage of the pregnancy, it is advisable to deliver".

"Well, I was already halfway there…“ Marianne muttered, "Might as well deliver”.

"Ah, well…“ Barton shifted, "We can give you drugs to try and counteract the ones we gave to stop the labor or we can wait for them to wear off and see…”

"Just give me the drugs,“ Marianne shook her head, "They’ll thin my blood so ready another transfusion, but at this point it’s best to just… get it out…”

Dawn was still crying and her hands were shaking. It was kind of annoying.

"I can send someone right in… unless you need a little time".

"No, just give me the drugs,“ Marianne answered.

"Okay, I…” Barton looked around, seemingly confused, which was also annoying, “I’ll be back shortly”.

As she left the room, Marianne found herself wishing Dawn would leave with her. She turned finally and looked at her sister. The girl was sobbing, liquid covering her pale face and running down her neck. She clutched onto Marianne for dear life. Despite the older sister’s compulsion to tear her hand away, she allowed her to cling on.

"You don’t have to be here for this,“ Marianne said, "If you can’t handle it…”

Dawn looked up at her quickly and shook her head, “I need to be here. I need you to be alright”.

"I’m fine,“ Marianne said.

"No, you aren’t!” Dawn chastised, “You were in real danger today… if we weren’t in the hospital…”

"What? Someone could have died? Well, someone did anyway…“

"YOU could die, Marianne”.

"Hm,“ Marianne tore her hand away and folded it over her middle thoughtfully, looking down at the bump that still remained. It no longer housed anything but broken hearts and promises. It was such a waste of so much… What had even been the point?

"My baby is dead,” She said out loud, trying to get it to sink in, “I felt it move, I was going to find out the sex today…”

"Girl,“ Dawn choked out, "It’s a girl”.

"Oh".

A vision of wavy hair and butterflies, tiny hands reaching out with nobody to hold them.

"Oh…“

Shoes. She would have bought shoes today, shiny, sparkly purple shoes with a little bow on the end. She had eyed them in passing as she went through a clothing store last week. She would have gone back and purchased them, stuffing them away in her closet to look at and smile every now and then until the time came to use them. To give them to her daughter…

"My daughter…”

Dawn nodded her head, trying not to, but sobbing steadily once more. It was all gone now. A dream stolen from her before it was realized.

"She’s gone".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pain meds seemed to lose all effectiveness the moment the pitocin started working. It was excruciating, the contractions were ceaseless and the bleeding only increased.

Bog still wasn’t there, but Dawn stayed by her side, now having schooled herself to stay together for her sister. She held onto the rail of the bed while Marianne bore down through the pain.

As they pushed more fluids through her with the morphine, she could not help but feel that all of this pain was justified and quite apt. She had failed her child, she had ignored the signs. And her daughter had suffered. She had died a long, drawn out, oxygen-deprived death. And what for?

She couldn’t make any sense of it, she couldn’t even address her feelings about it right away, but she could understand the pain. She could even appreciate it.

It gave her something to focus on, something to do when there was truly nothing more that could be done.

"Talk to me about something,“Marianne seethed, turning to her side to relieve some of the tense pain, "Tell me what Sunny is up to”.

"O-okay,“ Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment, ” Um, he got promoted the other day, he’s now head baker".

"That’s great,“ Marianne smiled through a wince.

"He really just wants to make the stuff he wants to eat all the time,” Dawn’s lip curled fondly, “Now he can make that call. I hope he’ll still make my favorites too…”

"What’s your favorite?“

"It’s so hard to choose,” she chuckled, “But I think the fruit tarts are divine… oh or maybe the eclairs”.

"Sweets, of course,“ Marianne held her side, bracing against the side of the bed, "That sounds really good, though. I’m starving”.

"I can get you something-“

"No, don’t bother… pretty sure I’ll be throwing up soon….” She writhed, curling into herself with the next wave of pain, “Geez, I wish I could be in a bathtub for this…”

Dawn watched her carefully with a deep breath, “I’m sorry you have to go through this”.

Marianne blinked, looking into her sister’s crystal blue eyes, suddenly filled with gratitude to have her right there. She wasn’t even sure Bog could fill that spot. Would he be up for it and there for her the way that Dawn was so willing to be?

"Thank you,“ Marianne gave Dawn’s hand a pat, "Hopefully the pain will stop once the extra morphine kicks in… but I won’t be very coherent”.

"Maybe that’s for the best,“ Dawn offered quietly.

"Yeah,” Marianne nodded, “You’re probably right….oh, bucket please…”

Dawn handed her the pink, bag-lined bucket and she bent forward, and made good on her word by vomiting into it. The door opened at this opportune moment.

"Marianne?“ Bog’s concern-drenched voice seemed to fill the room as she wiped her mouth off.

She looked up. His eyes were lined red and his suit disheveled, like he had already gotten a headstart on the grief to come. She suddenly didn’t want to say anything. Here before her stood the one person who might possibly feel the same way as she did, but she was so scared that he may feel the same guilt that she did. Guilt that could be pointed only at her.

"What happened?” His voice cracked a little as he looked around the room, his eyes locking on the pac of blood hanging on her IV line.

Marianne looked down, suddenly feeling dizzy.

"Bog,“ Dawn stood from her seat and offered it, "I can tell you everything, if you want…”

"It’s fine,“ Marianne spat out. This would have to be done sooner or later, might as well push through it now, "Why don’t you go get some dinner, Dawn”.

"Okay,“ Her sister complied, "If you need me, just tell your nurse and she’ll page me”.

"Thanks,“ Marianne nodded as Bog came and sat down beside her mechanically. Dawn left, closing the door quietly after her.

"I came as quick as I could,” He started, his voice a pitch higher than usual, “Dawn called dozens of times, I just had no reception… I’m sorry, I-”

"No, just stop,“ Marianne raised a hand, shifting around as she noticed the morphine was finally starting to work, "It’s not like it would have changed anything…”

"Is…“ Bog looked gravely pale as he pushed out his words, "Did you lose…it?”

"Her,“ She spat out, "I lost the baby. She died when the placenta detached and she wasn’t getting oxygen…”

He just stared at her, his eyes wide, brain overhauling somewhere deep within the walls of his skull, locked away from her. He looked sick and frozen. Kind of like she felt, like staring into the face of an oncoming train, knowing it would hit you any moment. Did he feel as if his very soul were trembling as well?

"I lost her,“ She continued on, "I had contractions and didn’t even realize until it was too late. Went into SURGERY having them… I don’t even know if I could have avoided this, but I do know I missed every possible opportunity to try”.

"Did you have them last night?“ He asked.

"Yes, but I didn’t-”

"I TOLD you to take care of yourself…. and you didn’t even tell me. You didn’t let me know something was wrong?“

Her chest seemed to freeze as she watched frustration crease his face, "I didn’t know. I thought it was normal…”

"You’re a doctor, for crying out loud!“

"I DIDN’T KNOW,” Marianne yelled, “I don’t know what it feels like, I don’t know how any of this…”

She gasped a breath, unable to continue as a dry sob racked her frame. Oh God, she had no idea, she had no idea… This whole pregnancy had been a series of mysteries and surprises for her and she didn’t dig further to find out more.

But deep down, she found that she had indeed known that something was wrong. She had ignored it, willfully, hoping she were wrong or that it would go away. She wanted to keep saying she didn’t know, defend herself in all her seemingly infinite pain… but she hated herself. It would only be just if Bog hated her too.

She buried her face in her hands, folding her legs up to her chest, and cried, loud and hard.

"What about you?“ He asked quietly, "will you be okay?”

She shook her head rapidly as her eyes spilled stinging hot tears onto her palms. Nothing woud be okay ever again. She had killed their baby, she had neglected her duties to this child, she had stolen something from Bog as much as from herself. She could not see a time in her future where she could ever put her pieces back together.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…“ but he couldn’t finish. He simply trailed off.

She just wanted him gone now. She just wanted him to leave her to this pain, let her bare the brunt of the experience alone. She would labor and birth their extremely premature child and struggle through passing the placenta without bleeding to death. She would labor and try to attone for her misgivings.

"I knew…” He muttered under his breath, “We… shouldn’t have gotten invested in this”.

"Go,“ Marianne croaked out, "You don’t have to be here-”

"Marianne, no! Please…“

"Just go,” she cried, “I still have to… there’s a lot to be done before I can talk”.

"If that’s what you really want"

"Yes,“ she sobbed, "Please, just let me do this…”

He remained quiet, but she could feel his presence, feel him staring at her. He sat for a moment and then stood, still a breath’s distance away, not reaching out to touch her.

"I’ll be right outside".

"Go home,“ she pleaded, "Just go on…”

He stayed silent, but took a step away, leaving a chill in his stead. Long moments passed in her fog of messy sobbing and heartbreak, but he eventually left, letting the door close on its own after him.

She hugged her knees closer to her and let everything hit her. She was shattering, her whole life was falling apart. She just wanted to disappear, she wanted the overwhelming pain to end. If she was to shatter, let her shatter again and again until all that was left was unfeeling dust.

In all of her fresh, raw agony came the recurring thought that none of this would ever get any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I lost my first child, I was across the country on a trip, my husband was not there. I had my sister, but I needed to grieve with my husband, especially when I was hospitalized for blood loss.
> 
> When I was sure I had lost the baby, I worked myself up for hours to call him without crying. I had held it in the entire time, but I knew l would when I heard his voice. I started cracking when I told him, but he was quiet…
> 
> The first thing he said to me was “I told you not to get too excited”.
> 
> I can’t even begin to tell you how deep that cut. I had the overwhelming thought at that very moment that I would not be able to grieve with him. So I left him out, I left him out of everything that was happening until it came to a head… but that’s another story.
> 
> Sometimes, when we begin to grieve, we thrash and we claw and we judge and we hurt the people closest to us by saying the dumbest, harshest things, or just plain leaving them out when they actually need you. And at the time, it doesn’t even matter, because it truly feels like the world should end anyway.
> 
> You have to evolve from grief, one way or another. It has to go somewhere else or you could lose so much more


	9. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief is exhausting. When compounded with the stress, anxiety and restlessness associated with being incapacitated, it becomes a paradox of depression and anger, wanting to sleep until your world is better and get up and fight to fix something when you can really do neither.
> 
> It’s pretty much purgatory on Earth. In my experience, there are only two things that change it for the better: time and rehab(physical or counseling). There is a plethora of actions you can take to turn that purgatory into hell, though…

Marianne stared at the vent in the ceiling. The air seemed to blow constantly. Hospitals were always cold, so it should have been no wonder, but she had never taken the time to just look up and see where it came from.

At the moment, it was all she wanted to do, though everything was blurry.

The sun had been up for hours, transforming her room into a whole new place. She felt lost in the sea of patients and remembering the sheer size of the hospital made her and her experience feel so small.

The night before, that small room and everything in it had been her whole world. Her excruciating and immersive world. She didn’t want to have to share it with other people, but she needed the doctors and nurses and her sister…

Dawn, the wonderful girl she was, saved her. She held her as she shivered and cried, she encouraged her, she asked her what she wanted and understood when Marianne just couldn’t speak.

There was a gaping hole in her heart, though. She longed for Bog to be there holding her. She even cried for him in the midst of all the madness. It took so long, and the work was hard. Surprisingly so, considering she wasn’t birthing an even halfway term baby.

It was… still was, felt like it would always be, the most painful thing she had ever been through. Physically and emotionally. When she finally pushed her baby out, she screamed. Everyone backed away except for Dawn. She had a baby blanket. She remembered it thread for thread held between her sister’s caring hands, white and draping with the colorful shadows of butterflies dancing across the edges. Marianne couldn’t help but stare through tear-clouded eyes as her sister caught the blood-soaked infant and ordered a nurse to cut the cord. She didn’t even realize that was done this early.

She also didn’t realize how perfect her baby would be. She was so so tiny, but had ten fingers and ten toes and a button nose just like her. The blood-soaked cloth was tossed as Dawn cleaned and then wrapped the limp thing up in a fresh identical linen, just like she would a term baby, folding her up securely and tucking corners, but folding down the front to reveal the peaceful face and tucked hands of Marianne’s very undoing.

"She’s beautiful,“ Dawn smiled softly. Marianne’s heart broke all over again, longing to hold her child so bad it terrified her. She sent them both away and she would not see her baby again.

It took another hour to pass the placenta, she passed out shortly after as they worked on another transfusion.

She was empty.

But today. Today the sun came up. Today they changed all her linens. Today they opened the curtains. Today, every trace of the night prior was erased. Today she was out of the woods medically. Today life was moving on, but she wasn’t. She was so angry about it too.

It only got worse as she glared up at the ceiling, her head filled with ‘why’ and 'this isn’t fair’ and 'I hate everybody’ and 'I hate myself’. There, her thoughts paused and then cycled right back to start. She wanted to throw blame around, wanted to so badly. Why had nobody noticed an issue in any of the previous ultrasounds? But she knew it would have been extremely difficult, placental abruption has practically no warning until it happens, same with preterm labor. Besides, her last ultrasound had been weeks back. There would have been nothing wrong with her then. She knew this.

There was nobody to blame, really, besides herself. And there was no satisfaction in it, just a paradox of anger.

She was mad at Bog too, because he had been right. She never should have felt the way she did, she never should have hoped for this child

She wished she had been unconscious, or that they had opened her up… she wished she had bled out completely.

And then she felt guilty, because that wasn’t fair to her family.

"Marianne?” Dawn poked her head in the room and said in a hushed tone, “You awake?”

"Always,“ Marianne sighed, finally tearing her eyes from the vent and propping herself up with pillows.

"Oh good,” Dawn smiled warmly and entered the room, a platter of food in her arms, “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so Sunny made a spread”.

"I’m not hungry".

Dawn opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself, setting the platter down on a chair, “okay”.

Her sister came to her side, studying the monitors and drips before looking her in the face.

"How are you feeling?“ She asked.

"Like death”.

"It would help if you got some sleep".

"I can’t".

"We… They can give you something for that”.

“I already have a cocktail of drugs in me”.

Dawn fidgeted a little, sighing as she closed her hand over the rail of the bed, “You should call Bog”.

“Why?”

“You need him”.

“No,” Marianne shook her head, “I’ll manage”.

“He needs you”.

She scoffed, “ He didn’t need any of this”.

“Marianne…” Dawn started, her eyes downcast as if she were mulling over something she wanted to say. Marianne felt kinda bad, she knew her sister only wanted to help her and she was making it difficult for her.

“How’s Gloria?” Marianne asked, changing the subject.

“Oh,” Dawn looked up, “She’s recovering well. There was some spotting, but… both their vitals are good. She is a bit down about not getting it all. I think she does best with you explaining her options now…”

“What do her scans look like today?”

“It’s about the same. Now that we know where it is, it was easier to get a look at the growth. Dr. Barton says it hasn’t grown yet”.

“Has she hinted at a plan yet?”

“Well, she is wanting to stick with your plan and start chemo soon… but Gloria is scared”.

Marianne sighed, “She has a right to be”.

“Are you sure… about continuing with her as your patient?” Dawn asked cautiously.

She knew what she meant. Things were different now, and the connection of their simultaneous pregnancies had been made weeks ago. She had cried over it, even, thinking of her child being in danger like Gloria’s. The danger that was at her very fingertips the day before.

But today, Gloria’s baby was fine. Marianne’s baby was dead.

“I can’t leave them now,” Marianne explained, “After all this work… she has this one shot at having her own child. I will make sure that happens. I’ll see it through”.

Dawn looked at her in an infuriating manner, pity and concern struggling past whatever control she might have had over her emotions. She was never good at that… but at this point, it was hard for Marianne to not deduce that her sister found her judgement a bit too hysterical in all her grief.

Marianne refused to believe that that were so. She was determined, yes, but her judgment was soundly rooted out of concern for her patient.

Marianne decided to change the subject, “So, Dad’s really cutting his trip short just because of… this?”

"Of course,“ Dawn looked incredulous, "He was so worried last night, you have no idea…”

"I know he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be a grandpa to a bastard child".

"Marianne!“

"Hey, I’m the one in the hospital, I can say what I want…” She retorted, “And I can’t say I’m exactly looking forward to his company today”.

"Well, he’s flying in this afternoon, but… I could hold him off if you want".

Marianne shrugged, “Might as well rip off that bandaid now, I suppose… but thank you”.

"It’s no big deal-“

"No, thank you for everything, Dawn. You have no idea…"Marianne shook her head, afraid she might tear up again if she continued.

"Hey, it’s fine,” Dawn laid a hand on her shoulder with a reassuring smile, “I’d do anything I could to help you, you know. That’s what sisters are for”.

Marianne nodded with a quivering smile, but wondered if Dawn would ever know how truly wonderful she was. She felt guilty all over again, knowing the toll her own roller coaster of emotions took was not fair to Dawn, worrying that she would see that too and leave her.

She had driven Bog off already, she could not afford to drive Dawn off too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another two days of bleeding, turning down visitors, and occasionally humoring her father before she was discharged. She was more than ready.

It was one thing to have spent years in a hospital roaming the halls and seeing patients. To be confined to a bed while others stood and moved around you was absolutely infuriating after a while. She thought about the clinic every day, her patients, Gloria… she obsessed over the reports she got about each, grew jealous of the colleagues covering her cases.

She was pretty sure she was going crazy. So, she was relatively relieved when they finally brought a wheelchair in for her discharge, as frustrating as the prospect of being pushed out the very doors she walked into several days before to work was.

"I can take time off, you know,“ Dawn was tossing linens in a bin as Marianne finished getting dressed in actual clothes.

"No, no, you’ve wasted enough time on me as it is,” Marianne shook her head, pulling a sweater on over her shirt, “At your point, you need as much time with patients as possible to get ahead, but damn… go find something interesting”.

Dawn rolled her eyes and stood at the handles of the wheelchair, “Maybe you forget after spending all your time fighting medical monsters, but OB cases are largely redundant… until we have to refer them to you, of course”.

"I know, I’m a glory hog…“ Marianne shrugged into her coat, beginning to button it from the bottom. She stopped at her abdomen, recalling that the last time she buttoned it, the coat pressed against her bump. There was still some swelling, but it was notably smaller now. She did the rest of the buttons quickly, hiding the evidence from herself, and plopped down in the wheelchair.

Dawn pulled her out of the room, her silence a favor obedient to Marianne’s own denial.

"How’s Gloria today?” Marianne asked.

There was a pause, which may as well have been the answer, because Marianne knew what came next, “She’s refusing chemo… adamantly”.

"And what does she expect will happen now? I’m sure you’ve explained she NEEDS chemo, right?“

"Of course, but she’s convinced she can carry to term…”

"And the scans? They still show a carcinoma?“

"Yes, but it’s spreading across the horn”.

"Even if it does not progress to a sarcoma and invade the muscle, it will still constrict the uterus and keep it from stretching,“ Marianne leaned her head back in frustration as Dawn continued to wheel her down the hall, "She knows that, right? She knows the kid won’t grow?”

"We’ve made it pretty clear, I believe,“ They stopped at an elevator and Dawn pressed the button, "She doesn’t much let us explain without making a big fuss, though…”

"Sometimes, patients need their doctor to be the responsible adult in the room… because they can’t be trusted to reason,“ Marianne sighed, "Sometimes you gotta be rough”.

"Well, that is your area of expertise, I guess".

"Fine then, let’s go see her,“ Marianne went to stand, but Dawn pushed her back by the shoulder.

"Oh no, hospital policy, you get wheeled out on discharge. And then you go get rest and get better!”

"At Dad’s house? Yeah, right…“ Marianne rolled her eyes, "Come on, I need to see my patient…”

"Hospital. Policy.“ Dawn patted her sister’s head before wheeling her into the now-open elevator.

They sat in silence for the ride down to the ground floor, though Dawn hummed something slow.

Their Dad met them at the front doors, his car parked along the curb just outside. He greeted her with that same straining smile that the rest of the hospital staff was giving her. If she could put a word to it, she would most likely choose pity, but it certainly looked painful from where she sat.

"I have the guest room all set up for you, honey,” He said as they all walked through the double sets of doors to the outside, “Whatever you need…”

"Thanks,“ she said with a curt nod, "Am I properly wheeled out now?”

"Well, yeah,“ Dawn answered.

"Good,” She stood quickly, regarding her family with an unapologetic look, “Sorry, I gotta take care of something”.

She turned and hurried back into the hospital, their protests trailing after her. She practically jogged back to the elevators and grabbed one before it closed, punching the button to go back to the floor she had been on. She shook her hands out in front of her and took a deep breath before adjusting the glasses resting on her nose. She stared up at the floor numbers as they lit in succession, willing herself to feel more alive the closer she got to actually doing something.

It felt good. If only for a moment’s rush of pursuing progress in one of her patients. It was something she could do.

Her floor came up, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

She was suddenly staring up at an unshaven Bog.

She blinked, mouth agape as his eyes widened. The door almost closed between them in the pause.

He reached out and stopped the door, “Why are you still here?”

"Me?“ She stepped out and around him, "Why are you here at all?”

"I…“ She watched as confusion and anger played across his face, "I was… worried”.

A pang of guilt pierced her chest. Another thing she could not help.

"Well, I’m fine,“ Marianne looked down.

"Marianne…” Damn him for knowing her and not buying it, “We need to talk”.

"I know,“ She said with a swallow, wanting to do anything else, "But I have a patient I need to check in on”.

She moved to walk past him, denying him eye contact. He reached out to stop her, but she darted around his grasp.

"Sorry,“ he muttered, "I just… I’ve really needed to see you”.

Her heart thudded in her ears and she stopped.

"Marianne, I’ve…“ His voice was so strained, she knew if she looked at his face again she’d crumble, "I’ve been waiting, here. I just need to see you, I need to know that you’re okay”.

"You’ve been here the whole time?“ She asked, "You never left?”

"No,“ he admitted quietly, "And I saw her”.

Marianne’ spine seemed to freeze, her shoulders bristling, “Y-you saw her?”

"Dawn, she….“ Bog’s voice was breaking, "I got to hold the baby… I had no idea she’d-”

"Look like a baby?“ Marianne offered.

"Yeah…” he said with an oddly wistful wonder to his tone, “She was beautiful”.

The image her mind conjured of Bog holding that tiny girl in his arms was just too much to hold onto. It slipped through the labyrinth of her thoughts, bouncing off her fragile emotions until it hit her at the very bottom where she now presided, shattering into a million stabbing, splintering, slaying pieces.

Over and over the pain was cycling through her once more, a million times more striking and poignant than she had allowed it to be since that night. She couldn’t handle it, not yet, Maybe not ever. She couldn’t feel this. Why why why did he have to be here? Why did he have to do this now? Why couldn’t he just leave or be awful or hate her or not care about the child that they lost? Why?

"Bog,“ she said with a swallow, still looking at the floor.

"Yes?” His voice was meek and heartbreaking as she felt him step nearer.

"I don’t want to see you".

Silence.

"I don’t want to see you,“ she reiterated, this time walking away. She didn’t look back to see his reaction or make sure he left, she just kept on towards the patient rooms. She would change her mind if she looked at him, she knew that. She would cry and melt and burn up in all the grief they could share together. She felt she could die in that sadness.

If she could defer it, even if it meant compounding it, she would. Even if it meant hurting Bog and hating herself for the rest of her life, she would put it off. She wasn’t ready. She was terrified.

When she finally found Gloria, she let herself in, closing the door after her. Gloria looked up and met her presence with defiance and anger in her eyes.

Good, Marianne thought, I can handle that.


	10. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain can only cut deeper when we refuse to treat ourselves well. Self-punishment is the opposite of a coping mechanism… so why are some so inclined towards it?
> 
> I don’t know, I just write about it… and torture myself with it… so here we are.
> 
> Part nine!

There was a hope in the world of medicine, one blinding vision of the ideal relationship between doctor and patient. The doctor helps the patient, treats the patient, saves their life. The patient is grateful, warm, even affectionate. This relationship embodied the payoff of the craft, the very thing you went into medicine to do. You grew up wanting to be that doctor, wanting to have those patients, so you could go to sleep smiling in the knowledge that everything you had done was beneficial and good and appreciated.

"I hate you so much,“ Gloria was not that patient.

"I know,” Marianne was not meant to be that doctor.

She wasn’t even sure why she subjected herself to sitting with the patient as she received her chemotherapy. Yet here it was, day three of the first round, and she was sitting in a chair beside her pissed off ward, reading a medical journal and accepting whatever abuse she wanted to throw at her.

"If this crap doesn’t hurt my kid, all the vomiting afterwards certainly will".

"Not as much as being smothered by a growing tumor,“ Marianne quipped, crossing an ankle over her knee, "Besides, that’s what all those extra tubes are for… nutrition without the joy of eating…”

"Looks like you could use some,“ Gloria snarked, "Seriously, eat something, you just look like a friggin hypocrite. A doctor, wasting away on her own volition…”

"I’m a very busy woman,“ Marianne reasoned, "I forget sometimes…”

"Not too busy to spend hours torturing me with your presence when I can’t leave".

"Well, I just enjoy your company so darn much,“ She flipped a page, clicking her tongue, "And I’m a control freak…”

"With other cases she could micromanage…“

"You know you’re my favorite”.

"Because you like to torture yourself…“ She paused, making Marianne look up. Gloria leaned forward, head in hand, and breathed steadily, her eyes closed.

Marianne leaned forward and offered her a bucket from the small table between them. Gloria looked up and then knocked it out of her hand to the floor with a clatter.

"I am not something you can use to make yourself feel better,” Gloria spat, sitting back in the chair, “This isn’t some second chance to save your dead baby or something…”

Gloria seemed to recoil at her own words, but Marianne had grown a thick skin to it already. It was far from the first time she had said such things since the day of Marianne’s discharge. She was hateful and seething and spoke from a deep pain that Marianne found she could have enough respect for to not take it to heart. At most, it shone a light on her own sense of guilt.

"I couldn’t save my baby, true,“ Marianne nodded, "But I can save yours. Which is why you’re here. Which is why I refuse to let up”.

"Yeah, sure,“ she turned her attention to the television in the corner, "Must be nice to be able to stay so busy that you don’t have time to fall apart”.

Ah. She dug deeper. She was getting better at this.

Marianne sighed and stood, rolling the paper up in her hands, “Good talk. Keep it up with that wonderful, optimistic attitude”.

"You’re a bitch".

"I know,“ Marianne gave a small wave as she backed out of the room, "But I’m the bitch who has your best interests in mind”.

"Thanks,“ her facetious reply was coupled with a high-raised middle finger.

Marianne smirked as she left the room and stepped up to the nurse’s station. She set the journal down.

"Make sure she gets fluids when the session is done, she hasn’t been drinking as much as she should because of the nausea”.

"Sure thing, Dr. Fairman".

"Page me if her temp spikes, or… well, you know".

"We got her, doctor,“ The nurse gave her a nod and smile.

"Thanks,” Marianne tapped her fingers on the counter and then turned to leave.

Marianne walked to the lockers in silence, the halls echoing with her footsteps. It was lunch time, so things were generally quiet, especially on this floor. She couldn’t help but think back to the deafening silence of her own hospital room each time it got like this and she found herself here. Perhaps that was why she set up the chemotherapy for these hours, to fill them in. Or to punish herself, she wasn’t really sure anymore.

She had never gone home with her father. After the initial fallout with Gloria and the consent to treatment, she had taken her things and told her father to go home. She drove herself back to her dark and empty apartment. She took care of herself and then she went back to work a couple of days later, when she was sure her bleeding was under control.

It had been two weeks now, and she was entirely immersed in her work. She saw her sister at the hospital, she took her calls, but all of her answers to prodding questions were curt and sparse. She had retreated, she knew, but it felt right.

She had not spoken to Bog since her discharge. She was relieved… or at least she kept telling herself that she was.

She pushed into the locker room anxiously, but let out a breath when she saw that nobody else was there. She went to her locker quickly and began to strip down from her scrubs. She ran a hand over her ribs and abs, not sure how she felt about the fact she had never been this thin before.

Gloria really was spot on about everything wrong these days. Marianne had not been eating, she had been overworking herself and she was compensating. To Marianne, those were just the facts of her existence these days. She didn’t want to eat, because it was hard to swallow and then the food sat in her belly like a brick. She didn’t want to stop working because she would become anxious, restless, shaky, and unable to sleep. She wanted to help Gloria because…

She usually stopped herself there, because it opened the doors to that night, the one she was working so hard to put behind her. Well, maybe not put behind exactly… bury, more accurately.

She dressed herself slowly in the multiple layers she needed for the bitter cold, wishing she could postpone the rest of her day. She had a few hours to plot her escape, but knew all too well what skipping her follow-up appointment would initiate. Barton would be on her in no time, same as Dawn. And seeing as they shared a patient, she would be backed into a corner.

She checked the time on her phone just as a call was coming through. Dawn, of course.

She picked up her bag and headed out the door before answering, “Yes?”

"Are you on your way yet?“ Dawn asked urgently.

"If I were, you may have just made me crash my car trying to answer your call”.

"Are you still at the hospital?“

"Uh,” Marianne stopped, hearing something in her sister’s voice, “Yup… why, what’s up?”

"There’s a, uh, situation in the ER…“

A chill ran up her spine, "Who is it?”

"It’s, um, Boggy…“

Marianne nearly dropped her phone when she took off at a sprint for the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I’m fine, get off me!”

She heard him long before discovering which bed he was in. His voice was deep and booming and highly irritated. She was relieved to hear it.

"I don’t need stitches, nothing is broken, let me leave!“

"Sir, you were unconscious when you were brought in, we have to run a CT-”

"And I have to rent a car now and book it to a meeting. I am saying NO to treatment, so bandage me up and discharge me!“

Marianne skirted around some trays and moving nurses, zeroing in on Bog’s voice behind the long curtain at the end of the row. She flung it back just in time to see a resident cowering back over a looming Bog. He glared beneath the stains of smeared, barely cleaned blood from a fresh gash across his forehead. He held his left arm awkwardly, revealing more gashes and preliminary bruising. She was pretty sure she saw a shard or two of glass as well.

"What the fuck happened?” Was how she chose to announce herself.

Bog’s threatening demeanor shrank back as his head snapped towards her voice. His blue eyes softened, but he still seemed distressed. Her heart thudded in her chest as their eyes locked. It felt as if she were being pulled forward, but she fought the urge.

"VC on the highway, semi versus car…“ The resident explained.

"Oh my God…” She really wanted to hold him now.

"I was in his blind spot,“ Bog grumbled, "He couldn’t have seen me before he pulled into my lane. Didn’t have time to brake…”

"And you’re…“ She tried to wrap her mind around the concept of his car being run over by an eighteen-wheeler, "You’re okay?”

"A bit banged up, but yeah,“ He shrugged his good shoulder, "In one piece…”

"He needs a head CT-“

"I do not!”

"Alright, enough!“ Marianne snapped, finally moving from her position, "Bog, sit down. And you…. whatever your name is… just give us a minute, I got this”.

The resident looked a little uncertain, but clearly recognized her, so he left, advising her that local anaesthesia was already administered and muttering under his breath about the need for sedation. Bog complied and sat down crookedly, wincing as he did. Marianne took a long, shaky breath in, her chest tightening as she approached him. She eyed the gash on his forehead as she took off her coat and pulled on some gloves. It was definitely deep enough for stitches. If she had to guess, he probably took an initial hit. A concussion was more than likely.

She took up some gauze and medical tweezers and approached him. His eyes followed her every movement, she could feel it washing over her as she got so near she could feel his heat.

She started by cleaning his forehead, wiping at the congealing blood as his eyes closed. He let out a breath the second she touched him, but held still while she worked. It felt… nice. That was so ridiculous to her, but as the ER bustled around just on the other side of the curtain, this silent work felt good.

"Hold this against the wound,“ She said beneath her breath. His hand joined hers on the packing gauze before she moved back. She pulled the cart over, setting the tray aside and motioned for him to put his arm on it.

"I need to debride these wounds first, but you WILL need stitches on your forehead”.

"Okay,“ he answered softly. She pulled up a stool and started on his arm, turning a bright light on it. Carefully, she began pulling out the small shards of glass, working to not tear his skin any further.

"Your car is totalled?” She asked after minutes of his gaze burning through her.

"Yes,“ he answered shortly.

"Semi always wins,” she sighed, pulling out a larger piece and dropping it into a metal pan with a clink.

There was another pause of her working as he watched.

"I thought you didn’t want to see me,“ He stated more than asked.

"I… heard you were here”.

"And you came. You didn’t want to see me,“ His fingers flexed slightly, forcing her to pause, "Someone else can do this”.

"I don’t want them to,“ She said reflexively.

"Why?”

"Because you…“ She looked up at the concerned face she was so scared of having seen weeks back, "I can do this for you”.

"Anyone can do this".

"I don’t trust anyone to take care of you,“ She snapped, wiping some blood away more vigorously than needed.

"Wow, okay,” He tensed slightly.

Marianne used the back of her arm to push her glasses back up, “I can’t be here long, I have an appointment”.

"I know,“ He replied gravely.

"You know?” She glared up at him, “You’ve been talking to Dawn”.

"You never asked me not to".

She pulled out the last of the glass and wiped at the pooling blood once more before packing and wrapping it in a bandage. He was right, of course, but it felt weird to know he had been checking up on her. She sighed and stood, moving to the sink to change out her gloves and wash up a bit. She started gowning and stuck her head out the curtain, shouting for a suture kit.

"Since you’re okay with seeing me now,“ He started, uncertainly, "Can I ask what happened?”

She tied the gown on, “I’m about to sew your head shut and you want to talk about me avoiding you?”

"Yes".

She frowned at him slightly as a nurse wheeled in a suture kit. Marianne thanked her and shooed her out.

"Lay back,“ Marianne instructed, raising the head of the bed at a slight angle and adjusting a pillow. Bog swung his legs over, wincing again, and leaned back onto the pillow. She moved the tray over and lowered the bed until he was at a workable height.

She motioned for him to remove his hand and the gauze from his forehead as she prepared to clean the area again, pulling on new gloves. The bleeding had slowed desirably, so there wasn’t too much to do. Once clean, she prepared the irrigation.

"I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said as she screwed a tube onto the large syringe, “But you’re burning a hole through me staring like that”.

"I’ve missed you,“ He said, sending a pang through her chest.

"Well,” she swallowed as she turned back to him and began to irrigate the wound, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t… also, miss you”.

She finished up, wiping the area of the excess solution. Bog grabbed her arm gently before she could move away again.

"Then why?“

It was a simple question, far too basic to comprehend out of context. The answers, however, were broad and complex, almost too much to explore.

"It just… hurts,” She said, pulling out of his grasp.

"I know,“ he responded emphatically.

"No, you don’t,” she said, peeling the cover off of the suture kit and arranging her tools, “And you don’t deserve it… you never deserved this”.

"Marianne, I wanted it,“ He explained, "I wanted all of it. I wanted the baby, I wanted to be able to grieve her…. I wanted to grieve with you. I wanted you!”

"It hurts to look at you!“ She snapped back, turning to him and those same heartbreaking eyes.

"It hurts to look at you too,” He shook his head slightly, “You don’t think I’ve memorized everything about that night? You don’t think you remind me of everything I lost?”

Marianne stared at him silently, the daggers of his words continuing to pierce her slowly. She thought she could have cut him loose and eventually they would both stop hurting, but he held on…

"What hurts most is knowing you are out there with the same hurt and I can’t do a damn thing about it,“ He whispered harshly, "And knowing you were hurting and not talking to me long before all of this came to pass. Knowing you were afraid and couldn’t trust me to help”.

Marianne’s hands began to shake and she dropped her tools back onto the tray, trying to steady her breathing.

"I know,“ He said, "I know you talked to everybody else, but not me. Not the one who was suppose to be in this WITH you”.

"I couldn’t,“ she said quieter than she meant to, "I just couldn’t…”

"Why? Why deny me that privilege?“

"I was afraid of what you’d say, okay?” She glared out the corner of her eye, “I was afraid I would scare you off or…. Or I would finally know that you didn’t actually want to have a life with me. That you didn’t want a baby. That you didn’t think I could do this”.

"What?“

"Well, you were right… I shouldn’t have gotten relaxed, had hope. I should have taken better care of us, I should have done so much more…. And it’s too late now, so all I can do to fix this is let you hate me”.

"I… I don’t hate you, Marianne, I could never-“

"Well, I hate me, I hate all of this…” She looked up at the ceiling, her pulse quivering in her ears.

"I never meant to make you… feel like that. I didn’t mean to say anything…“

"You can’t make me feel anything,” She seethed, “And I can’t fix what we’ve lost. It’s over”.

He was quiet for a long moment. Perhaps he truly had no more to say to her. Maybe he was just tongue-tied. Maybe she had just made things a million times worse. It certainly felt worse to her.

"Marianne, YOU are what is most important to me. In the middle of everything… YOU are the one I wanted most, the one I worried about, the one I still do,“ Bog explained, his hand settled softly on her shoulder, "And I wanted, more than anything, to be able to hurt WITH you. It’s suppose to hurt, but we don’t have to do it alone”.

She turned her head to look at him again, pressure building in her brain. A part of her longed for him so hard it was almost impossible to deny. Yet, she knew what would come next, she knew the wave of pain awaiting them. Awaiting her. She wanted so much to forget instead. If she couldn’t fix it, didn’t she at least deserve to forget?

"I think….“ She looked back to the cut on his forehead, "I think I’ll get plastics in here, they can stitch you better”.

"Marianne…“

"I need to make it to my appointment…”

"Marianne, please…“

She sniffed, swallowing the lump in her throat and tore off her gloves and gown, "I’ll come check on you after…”

"Okay,“ he answered after a beat, his voice defeated.

She grabbed her coat and went to leave, pulling the curtain closed after her. Her chest pulled so painfully, she thought she might burst. She gripped the curtain for a minute more, trying to convince herself to walk away, put in the orders he needed, and leave. Her knees quaked at the mere thought…

"Damnit,” She hissed and walked through the curtain once more. He looked to her with mild surprise as she hurried back to his side. With little warning, she gripped his chin and pressed her lips gently yet fully against his own.

Both of their lips were chapped and dry, but damn did it feel like the first drink of water after a hike through the desert. She wasn’t sure of anything else in that moment, but she knew she wanted this. He was here and she loved him. He was okay. He was okay. She held his face in both her hands, feeling his skin and savoring his warmth. He was okay.

She pulled away, looking him in the eye, a breath away.

"I’m so sorry,“ she all but sobbed. And then she stood, aching for him, and turned and left once more.

On her way out, she paged plastics and ordered a head CT and left her number to call with updates. And then she went to her car and cried.


	11. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just don’t get to know what went wrong. It is the most frustrating damn thing int he world. I mean come on, the least you should be allotted in a tragedy is some sort of understanding as to why it happened, right? But no, you don’t get that, you just get unanswered questions and a handful of new fears stemming from the unknown.
> 
> Fears like being in the position to experience loss again and not being able to do a thing about it. Maybe you can learn to be okay being powerless. Maybe.

The most frustrating words for all involved in any medical case:

"We don’t know".

Marianne had been on the other side of this conversation many times. She had delivered the news that there was nothing more to be done. Worse, that there was some measure of mystery even to those who should have the answers. She was there before and she felt guilty for it, she hated it. And some patients, well, they couldn’t handle it.

"What do you mean you don’t know?“ Marianne demanded.

"Well, aside from your current anemia, the biopsies and autopsy show that the placenta and baby were perfectly healthy. There was nothing wrong with either…”

"So why did it rupture?“

"Placenta Previa… most likely,” Her doctor explained, flipping through her medical file, “But we can’t be entirely sure since the rupture displaced it”.

"Well, what could I have done… what can I do to avoid this down the line?“ She asked.

"Nothing,” He set the folder down and sat across from her, his hands folded, “There’s no way to know if you’ll be at risk for it in the future. Maybe you will and we can keep an eye out, but there’s nothing we would be able to do if the placenta presented low aside from bed rest. That’s it”.

"But…“ she struggled, gripping her pants anxiously, "My body was suppose to be able to do this. It’s suppose to be able to do its job. Why would this happen if there is no underlying issue?”

"We don’t know".

She glared at him, “I need to be able to fix it”.

"You can’t,“ he explained simply.

She rubbed her hands down her face, "So what CAN I do?”

"Well… we can recommend a counselor for you-“

"No!”

"It could help you… and dealing with this could prepare you should you choose to get pregnant again,“ He explained, crossing his legs.

"Prepare me for another loss?”

"Maybe,“ he nodded, "Some people suffer multiple losses before a successful pregnancy. But it is much more important that you are able to process loss so that you do not become overwhelmed in a subsequent pregnancy”.

"…I don’t even want to think about that right now,“ she looked down.

"Well, you need to be able to deal with it for yourself as well,” He explained, standing up and scribbling something on his pad, “You need to be able to get past it. So I’m prescribing you a mild antidepressant-”

"What?“

"You can take it or not take it, but I recommend you try it,” He tore a page off and handed it to her, “Moreso, I recommend you talk to someone. And maintain a more regular diet”.

"I just want to fix what went wrong, I don’t care about me, I just want to know why this happened!“ She yelled.

"You can’t” He said, still holding the piece of paper out, “You can only take care of you”.

She glared at him silently, still wanting more of an explanation, for something to make sense. It was pointless, this entire ordeal was pointless if she could not come out of it knowing any better than before. She snatched the paper out of his hand and spat out her thanks before leaving the room.

On her way out, she passed multiple women expecting their children with round bellies and glowing faces and the bitterness seeped further into her heart. She didn’t want to hate people she should be happy for, she didn’t want to be that person, but they unknowingly hurt her so much by just existing.

She stuffed the prescription in her pocket and left without putting her coat back on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Marianne? What are you doing here?“ Sunny’s head popped up over the counter of the small bakery, surprised but delighted to see her.

"I need… like, a brownie or something,” She said, crossing her arms and staring at the goods behind the glass display, “Something chocolate, get my blood sugar up… but also, chocolate”.

“Um, sure…” He ducked behind the counter and then came back with a pastry atop a small plate, “It’s a chocolate fruit tart”.

Marianne took the delectable looking item from his hands, “Aren’t these… my sister’s favorites?”

He smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, I always have some made up… They sell pretty well too”.

She eyed it for a moment before taking it up between her fingers. It smelled amazing and she felt plenty hungry, but she still felt as if a brick was settled in her gut. Trepidly, she took a small bite and willed herself to chew.

"Wow,“ Marianne smiled, taking another bite and savoring the smooth sweetness, "I can see why…”

She ate the rest of the pastry slowly, enjoying it and feeling herself unknot a little more with each morsel. Sunny grabbed a cup and dropped a tea bag in it before filling it with hot water from a kettle. He laid it on the counter between them and pushed out a tray of sugars and honey.

"Seriously, why isn’t this place overflowing with people?“ Marianne asked, wiping some crumbs from the side of her mouth.

Sunny shrugged, "Mornings and lunch are my busy hours… I think a lot of people left when the old man retired”.

"Ah,“ Marianne nodded, "So you just need to build up your own clientele. Don’t worry, you’ll get there”.

"Thanks,“ He leaned against the counter and looked up at her, "So… Dawn tells me Bog is in the hospital”

Marianne turned to the cup of tea, tugging at the string of the bag, “yup. My life is a mess”.

"I woulda thought you’d be at the hospital,“ he said.

"Yeah, you’d think…” She sighed, “I had an appointment, though… and then, just needed some time… and chocolate…”

"Sounds like you need something stronger than chocolate…“

"Don’t tempt me…” Marianne chuckled, spooning some honey into her cup, “You know, I went for answers, but… I got antidepressants instead”.

"Hm,“ He frowned, but tapped his fingers on the counter, "I’m sorry to hear that”.

"I’m not taking them,“ she scoffed, stirring her cup of tea.

Sunny chuckled, "big surprise”.

"Excuse me?“ She blinked at him.

"You know that saying? Doctors make the worst patients?” Sunny started.

"I don’t need antidepressants,“ She argued, taking a pointed sip of her drink, "I’m just… having a hard time, a lot going on”.

"And you think you can muscle through it, right?“ He shrugged, "I thought the same thing”.

"What?“ She studied his face, he looked slightly nervous to open up to her, but determined as he dug into his pocket and pulled a pill bottle out. He set it down on the counter between them.

"Clonazepam… anxiety medication,” He explained, his eyes glued to the bottle, “I never thought I was that person, but…”

Marianne looked between him and the bottle, wide-eyed, “How long have you been taking them?”

"About a year,“ He explained, "Though I had my first bottle for a month before I decided to take them”.

She fumbled with her words for a moment before settling on a simple “why?”

"I was… having a hard time,“ He smiled and shook his head, "I thought I just had to struggle through it. If I kept feeling so wrong, it only reflected on my own weakness. I didn’t understand then, but… sometimes you can’t just cope and that’s okay”.

"You always seem so happy, though".

"Yeah, I’m pretty good at that,“ He laughed, scratching the back of his head, "But, um, I actually am now, you know?”

"Does Dawn know?“ Marianne asked.

"She’s the one who convinced me to take it,” He explained, “You know, after all that business with… Roland and the hospital, getting caught up in his schemes just because I felt so small and worthless…It only went downhill from there. But Dawn… she never gave up on me. She made me realize I was worth loving as I was… even better, she believed in me, that I could be the best version of myself without ignoring the worst version. And taking the proper medication to deal with my anxiety was one of the steps I needed to actualize that”.

"And now you run this place,“ Marianne smiled.

"I earned this only by taking care of myself first…and it is the best, most fulfilling work I’ve ever done,” He gestured around him, “And Dawn was a huge part of that”.

"Huh,“ Marianne took another gulp of tea and then set it down, "I had no idea you guys had gone through so much together”.

"I tell her everything,“ He started cleaning up the area, "She supports me, I hope I support her well enough… I’m so proud of her”.

"That’s…“ Marianne thought back to her misgivings with Bog, keeping things from him and never asking for clarification, "That’s really nice, Sunny”.

"Well…“ He chuckled, wiping the counter, "My point was actually less braggy… You’ve been through a lot, Marianne. So much more than I can imagine. You are incredibly strong and you should be proud… just not too proud to accept help, you know?”

"…yeah,“ Marianne looked down at her hands, thinking of the strain of the last couple of weeks, just waiting for it to stop, "I guess”.

"And maybe, talk to someone,“ He shrugged, "I mean, what do you have to lose?”

"Except time?“

"Heh, well, it’s up to you. But I usually side with doctor’s orders these days…”

"Yeah, because you’re dating one".

He eyed her for a moment thoughtfully and then shook his head.

"What?“ She asked.

"Can I show you something?” He asked quietly, grabbing the pill bottle and shoving it back in his pocket before digging in the other pocket.

"I don’t need to know your complete list of meds…“

"No, no, this is something nicer,” He fumbled with his pocket still, clearly nervous, but excited. When he finally pulled his hand out, he presented a small, wooden box and offered it to her to hold.

She took it, confused at first, and he gestured for her to open it. She pulled off the top, revealing a ring nestled in a plush blue cushion. It was striking, with a soft round, faceted opal in a rose gold floral setting, edged with small diamonds in a design almost like leaves. It was elegant and pretty, yet fun and bright. It was so Dawn.

"Wait…you’re proposing to her?“ Marianne grinned.

"I’ve been planning to,” He shrugged sheepishly.

"Well, it’s absolutely beautiful, she’ll love it,“ She said, handing it back to him, "What are you waiting for?”

"The right time, I guess,“ He explained, stashing the ring back in his pocket, "I’ve wanted to ask every day since… well, since I confessed to her, honestly”.

"But you wanted everything to be perfect?“

"Yeah. First I was waiting for her internship to be over. Then I was waiting for my job situation to become more stable… Now…” He seemed to struggle with what was on his mind.

"Sunny, don’t mind me,“ She shook her head, guessing what was holding him back, "In fact, I would be remiss to let my situation stand in the way of this. Dawn has been perfect to me… she deserves some joy right now”.

"You think…?“

"I know,” She dug in her pocket and slapped a 20 dollar bill on the counter, “Besides, you can’t wait too long now or I’ll spill the beans”.

"Oh, you don’t have to pay me-“

"Save it for the honeymoon or something,” she chuckled, already making her way to the door, “And thanks, Sunny. It was good talking to you”.

"You too,“ He gave her a small wave, holding the bill gratefully to his chest.

Marianne went back out into the cold with a thoughtful grunt. Sunny certainly proved to be full of surprises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she made it back to the hospital,dark clouds had gathered, darkening the skies.It would likely be snowing soon. She hazarded a guess that if she were to glance at her phone there would be a blizzard warning. Now would be a good time to just go home, and she could. She even kind of wanted to, because seeing Bog again was intimidating, almost scary.

She needed to see him so much more than she wanted to run away this time.

By some twist of fate, her beeper went off as she stepped through the front sliding door.

"Shit,” she hissed as she read the code on her pager. It was Gloria.

She ran, but by the time she made it to the right room, her patient was already being wheeled out hurriedly, surrounded by doctors and nurses. They ran her down the hall and towards surgery.

"What happened?“ Marianne demanded of a straggling nurse.

"She threw a PE, heart attack… the cardiologist needs to remove it,” The nurse explained.

"You have got to be kidding me, a clot?“ Marianne groaned, running her hands roughly through her hair and watching as the gurney disappeared in the elevator, "He couldn’t flush it?”

"No time, she keeps coding and an ultrasound revealed a tamponade".

Marianne felt a chill go up her spine. This was a perfect storm. She saw them quite frequently in cancer patients. As an oncologist, it was a huge part of her job to watch people spiral towards the end. She usually saw it coming from a mile away, though.

This was a surprise.

She asked which OR they were heading to and waved a small thanks before taking off. She wasn’t sure why she ran, there would be nothing she could do in this scenario except pray that the cardiologist was a god at her or his work. With Gloria’s chemotherapy had come anemia, for which Marianne prescribed medicine. With that medicine came the tiny risk of blood clots. With blood clots came the miniscule probability of an embolism. With an embolism came the complete dice roll of which organ it might lodge in. With a coronary embolism came the immediate risk of a stroke. With a stroke came the possibility of permanent brain damage…

But they would have to worry on that later… because the heart could not pump with a tamponade until the fluid around it was relieved. If the cardiologist could not drain it in the room, that could only mean that he suspected a tear. If she had a tear associated with the blood clot, it would be arterial. If it was an arterial rupture, the cardiologist would have to open her chest completely and be damn good at his job.

As she rode the elevator up, she thought of the baby as well. If Gloria’s heart was in distress, the fetus would be too. It would not take much for her to lose that child now. Marianne felt her own heart sink lower and lower the more she thought of this sudden turn of events.

When the elevator doors opened, she noted Dr. Barton at the end of the hall, Dawn’s bright head of hair evident behind her. She hurried to join them, hoping to at least have them in the OR, looking after Gloria’s best interests.

"Marianne, where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?“ Dawn accosted her the moment she saw her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

Marianne patted down her pockets and belt, her phone now noticeably absent. She could not even recall seeing it since Dawn had called her earlier.

"Sorry, I must have left it somewhere…” It was then that Marianne noticed her sister had been crying, “Wait, what happened?”

"It’s Boggy".

Marianne was pretty sure her heart was now in worse condition than Gloria’s, “What. Happened”.

"He started having trouble breathing and increased chest pain…“

Marianne’s mind went back to Bog in the ER, how he winced when he moved and braced his side. She had focused on his open wounds and just assumed the ER doc had done a thorough examination. She had focused on Bog. She had focused on their collective broken hearts… but Bog was nursing his ribs after a high impact car crash.

"Damnit, he had a punctured lung?” Marianne asked a bit more aggressively than she planned.

Dawn nodded vigorously, “By the time it was caught, the lung wouldn’t reinflate, the chest tube wasn’t working. They took him in for surgery in OR 2”.

"We have to go, the NICU doesn’t have anyone free, we need to do the fetal monitoring,“ Dr. Barton insisted with a frown. Dawn looked between them sadly.

Marianne shook her head with a small smile for her sister, "Go, take care of those two. Bog will be fine, easy fix”.

Dawn nodded, trying to smile back through her worry. Marianne watched as she and her attending hurried into OR 4’s scrub room.

When Marianne was sure they were out of sight, she folded her hands behind her head and took a deep, shaky breath before beginning a frantic pace between each wall of the wide hallway. Her breaths became quicker and shallow in a matter of seconds as she juggled the circumstances over in her mind.

Bog was in surgery for a punctured lung. Punctured lungs were usually just treated with a tube and oxygen. If it was this bad, it must have taken a while to be caught, which means there was too much damage to the lung and some of it would need to be removed.

Oh God, what if all of it had to be removed? He would need to be stay on a machine and get a transplant and…

She was hyperventilating now to the point that her vision was spotting erratically and darkening at the edges. She stopped pacing and leaned her head into the wall, clutching automatically at her chest.

She couldn’t take this. She couldn’t do this. Between her dying patient and Bog. HER BOG. Who she could only feel that she had failed on this day…

Wasn’t it enough, she thought, to have lost my baby?

Stale, sour silence was her only answer. But a voice in her head kept telling her to move anyway. Fairness aside, she could not just stand in the hallway and have a panic attack. She needed to decide where she needed to be.

'Nowhere’ was the answer that actually came. There was nothing that she, as a doctor, could do for either of them, it was out of her hands.

Out of her hands. Once more. Nothing she could do.

Where did she want to be? That was the decision, she realized, looking up at the ceiling before glancing down the hallway, first to the left and then the right. That was all there was to it, she just had to choose for herself.

Helpless to any and all outcome, her feet moved more decisively than her brain when she turned and ran towards OR 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Tall, skinny people are at much higher risk for a collapsed lung. Okay, maybe not a “fun” fact… but a convenient plot device?


	12. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There may come a time in grief where you are startled by the revelation that you don't want to suffer through it alone. The common thread of suffering that forms a deep companionship is not something we would ever wish for... but one day it might just be something we need.

Marianne blinked down at the reflective linoleum flooring from her spot atop the empty gurney, her legs folded beneath her. Everything seemed to be swimming around her as her mind revolved around the image of Bog in surgery.

She could not stay once she had seen him from the staging area window, turned on his side with an arm raised up above his head, unconscious and intubated, being sliced open for a thoracotomy. It was the worst possible scenario, a highly invasive surgery that left a long, obvious scar and took weeks to recover from. She didn’t know how to handle it.

She could see his face, she could see the hands in his chest…. and she ran out.

She looked back up from her spot perched across the hall from the OR and stared at the door, it’s sealed existence her unknowing limbo. She didn’t really want it to move, she was far too fearful of the outcome, but this was its own torture.

Weeks of willing him away and suddenly the thought of his existence being impermanent sent her heart into a flurry of panic and remorse. Sitting still for so long, she shivered from the chill of the hall while her insides burned with anxious resolve.

"Marianne?“

Dawn’s voice made her jump and she shifted to see her sister standing almost right beside her. She was still in her OR scrubs, mask pulled down to her neck.

"Why are you out here? Is Boggy okay?” She looked so concerned.

Marianne opened her mouth to speak, but nothing could be persuaded out, so she simply nodded.

"So what are you doing out here?“ Dawn asked with visible relief, Marianne simply shrugged. Her sister’s face dawned with a gentle understanding and she moved to hoist herself up beside her on the gurney.

"I was hoping for some good news…” Dawn said with a sad chuckle, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling.

"Gloria?“ Marianne managed.

"She’s stable, but…”

Marianne’s heart sped for the fate of the other woman’s child.

"… She has some tough decisions to make now".

"That’s what I feared,“ Marianne admitted, "She can’t continue with the treatment and the pregnancy without risking both their lives…”

"Cardio said she would need to stop treatments immediately,“ Dawn expounded, “Or terminate the pregnancy. She can’t handle both”.

"We didn’t even finish one round….” Marianne shook her head, “We need to contact her family, boyfriend, whatever… they need to be here if and when she wakes up”.

"What?“

"She needs the support…”

"Marianne… she has no one".

Marianne gave her sister a look, “The first time she came in, there was a whole family reunion in her room… I gained five pounds off of baked goods every time I walked in that room”.

"Have you seen any of them?“ Dawn asked.

"Well, no, but I don’t spend a lot of time in hospital rooms anymore…”

"Well, I do…“ Dawn linked her hands over her middle, staring down at her thumbs, "They disowned her, Marianne. And she has no boyfriend. She wanted a baby, so she went out and… well, found a way. And she cut the guy loose. That was just too much for her family, I guess…”

"Even now?“ Marianne asked, "Even as she could be dying?”

Dawn simply nodded, “We’re all she has”.

Marianne shook her head no. Not that Dawn was wrong, but that there was any way a family would do that to one of their own that they had cherished so fervently before. Family did not abandon family.

"Dr. Fairman…“ an OR nurse had opened the door without her notice and stepped out. Marianne jumped down from the gurney, her heart racing.

"How is he?” Dawn asked, all sisterly love and tenderness.

"The procedure went as planned, about a third of the lung had to be removed from the damage,“ The nurse said, "He is stable and the doctor is closing up now”.

"We won’t know if it will tear again or not until he’s off the ventilator though,“ Marianne stated more than asked.

The nurse nodded, "we will need to see what happens when he wakes up”.

Marianne understood, she knew this was the best outcome, but she was washed over by exhaustion both physical and mental in that moment. She collapsed back, bracing herself against the gurney, breaths long and deep, and stared back down at the floor.

"Thank you,’ Dawn said for her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a little odd, she had not thought to look for Griselda before, it just had not crossed her mind. She felt like shit about it.

Dawn had thought about it, of course, she thought of everything and everybody. So the worried mother was taken care of and soothed in her most frightening times.

As the stars would have it, Marianne did not see her until several hours after Bog was moved to recovery. She had done her best to put it off by checking on her patients while still seeing him within a timeframe probable to his still being unconscious. As well as she felt she had planned it, she was somehow surprised to see Griselda seated dutifully beside her resting son.

Marianne’s immediate reaction was to turn on her heel and leave, but Griselda was far too keen of sense for her age and greeted her in seconds with an “Oh, sweetheart!”(a label she was neither deserving nor fond of).

That was how she ended up here, sitting beside the woman awkwardly, trying her best to not look at Bog’s unconscious face as she made small talk. A lump was firmly settled in her throat just being near his supine form. It wasn’t how she had seen him in all their time together, tall and strong, granted a bit slouchy, but still a force of a man. Now he was so vulnerable it was terrifying… and that hospital gown was one she had no intentions of seeing her loved ones in.

Of course, several weeks back, she had no intention of wearing one in such a context, either.

"So really,“ Griselda segued with a dropped and serious tone, "How are you, dear? I’ve been so worried about you”.

"I’m fine,“ she replied with the handy and predictable default.

"That’s a lie,” Griselda nodded.

Marianne opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it with a shrug.

"As bad as this has been on my boy, I can only imagine what all of this has put you through".

"…on him?“ She couldn’t help but ask.

"It was a loss for him too,” Griselda explained, “but it seems from his perspective as if he has lost you as well”.

That pang of guilt again, “I don’t really want to talk about it…”

"And how has that been working out for you?“

Marianne thought back to their last long conversation, the one about Gloria. Marianne explained her fears… all her stupid, stubborn insecurities and masks. It was all so pointless now… but she still hid from Bog. That had only gotten worse, it seemed.

She crossed her arms over her chest thoughtfully, looking down at the armrest of the chair.

"You know, back in my day, nobody talked about this stuff,” Griselda commented, “You weren’t suppose to acknowledge it, you were just supposed to move on. It was your burden to carry… almost shameful. I don’t think we ever really knew when it had happened to someone unless they were far enough along to notice… and then we just didn’t say anything”.

"Sounds kinda nice…“ Marianne quipped.

"But see, there are some useful things that come with knowing that somebody else is walking that same road as you. You learn you aren’t alone in your suffering and it changes the whole shape of it,” Griselda explained, “And my, if you had someone willing to stand beside you and share the exact same grief… well, I imagine the capacity for understanding alone could open up even the clammiest heart”.

Marianne stayed quiet, doubtful not only in her words, but in Marianne’s own capacity to ever employ such advice. They had been down this road before.

"When I lost my pregnancy, we didn’t have all these fancy doo-dads that people can use at home… I didn’t know anything was wrong until I went to the hospital for toxic shock".

"What?“ Marianne looked over at the small woman as if she were from another planet, "You…?”

"Like I said, nobody talked about it, it was taboo… still kinda sticks with me,“ Griselda shrugged, "I’ve had a lot of time to deal with it… and Bog, I had him not long after. I also had his father. Boy, was that rough at first. It was work understanding each other in grief, knowing what we could do for each other… but we both always tried until something worked. And it really paid off…”

She looked wistfully at her son’s face, a sad smile curling a lip up. Marianne looked at him too, her heart pulling for him and aching simultaneously.

"I don’t know where I would have been if I had not had someone in my corner during the miscarriage… and I don’t know what would have become of me had I not had my dear boy when I lost my husband,“ Her hand came to rest atop Marianne’s, "You are entitled to grieve however you are comfortable… but please know that you have others hurting for you. And one hurting with you”.

"I know,“ Marianne whispered, "I’m just scared…”

Griselda patted her hand lightly, staying silent in understanding as the sound of the machines echoed through the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marianne stood beside the pharmacy window for a good fifteen minutes, watching a few people filter through with worried, tired faces, bundled up in sweaters and scarves, clutching little paper cups of coffee or cocoa or something. She folded and crumpled and unfolded the small slip of paper in her hands, making a point of not looking at it.

She could just drop it off, it’s not like it was much of a commitment. She didn’t have to pick up the bottle, and it would be easy enough to tell the tech to forget about it… or to just avoid the pharmacy all together until they were forced to.

She rolled her neck at the thought and looked out the nearby glass doors at. Snow was pounding down, nearly whiting out the view of the lit parking lot. It was unusually full for the first thing in the morning, the snow plow was moving through, weaving through the crowded aisles with glaring high beams. Marianne ventured a guess that a peek at the ER would reveal armageddon. She did not miss that.

"Can I help you?“

A pharmacy tech had stuck her head out the small sliding window and looked at Marianne quizzically.

Do or die time, old girl, she thought to herself, taking in a sharp breath. She shifted between her two feet for a moment deciding whether or not to flee. But then she turned on her heel, reached over and slapped the prescription on the counter in front of the tech.

"Uh…” The tech tried to smooth the paper out.

"Page Dr. Fairman when it’s ready,“ Marianne barked with a nervous adjustment of her spectacles and then stiffly hurried away, refusing to look back.

She made her way to the elevator, jamming her finger as she aggressively hit the call button. Her pager went off and she checked it. It wasn’t emergent, but it was Gloria, so it was a priority.

When the elevator opened up, Dawn was suddenly there, her face sunny and bright despite working a near 18 hour shift.

"Oh, Marianne, I was just coming to get you!”

"Yeah, I just got a page about Gloria…“

"Oh?” Dawn lifted her pager on her scrub bottom and examined it with a frown, “I didn’t get one”.

"You’re off the clock now, I suspect your attending wanted you to go home and get some sleep,“ Marianne stretched her arm across her shoulder before pressing her floor button, "Wait, what did you need me for then?”

"Boggy is awake!“

Marianne’s heart rolled in her chest, followed by a sinking in the pit of her stomach, "Oh”.

"What do you mean, ‘oh’? This is great!“

"Yeah…” Marianne stretched her other arm, looking at the dirty linoleum flooring.

"He’s asking for you, Griselda said you had been by his bedside for hours,“ Dawn explained, rocking back on her heels in a satisfied manner, "And you’re still here, so…”

"There’s a frickin blizzard outside,“ Marianne swept her bangs behind her ear aggressively, "You think that just maybe I didn’t want to drive home through that in my crappy little sedan?”

"Pfft, like you’ve ever been scared of driving in the snow".

"Ah, forget you…“ Marianne scoffed, staring down at the ugly flooring again, "I need to go check on my patient before I do anything else”.

"Of course,“ Dawn responded, though she sounded a bit let down, "I’ll go keep them company”.

Marianne nodded her thanks as she got off at the appropriate floor. She sincerely did want to rush to Bog’s side, but it was terrifying to think of confronting him after everything. She had pled for him to wake up, but suddenly found herself ill-prepared.

As she neared Gloria’s room, she realized she really wasn’t ready for this part either.

When she walked in, she noticed a nurse changing a drip. Gloria looked from that nurse with groggy eyes, but soon turned fierce ones to Marianne. With a slow breath in, Marianne moved to the side of the bed, her patient’s eyes following her carefully. They stared at each other without a noise, Gloria’s eyes conveying a desperate resolve that told Marianne she definitely wasn’t ready for this.

When the nurse left, the door shut with a soft yet poignant click.

"No more chemo,“ Gloria said in a hard, yet breathless tone.

"Nice to see you’re coherent,” Marianne commented instead, “Guess you got lucky, didn’t stroke out”.

"I don’t want anymore chemo,“ Gloria said, a little louder now, "I won’t do it”.

"Do you understand what that means?“

"It means my baby might have a chance…”

"It means you definitely won’t, Gloria,“ Marianne countered, "You will be stage 4 before that child is viable…”

"No, I want to carry to term.“ Gloria stated adamantly.

"I…” Marianne grasped for some way to reason, “I can’t guarantee I can keep you alive that long. I can’t even guarantee we can keep your uterus viable that long”.

"Then I will carry as long as I can until it threatens the baby".

"I know you want this child, but… can’t we compromise? Survivability for preemies is better these days…“

"Yes, but there are also complications, lifelong ones,” Gloria laid back on her pillow and shook her head, “Don’t you think I’ve squeezed every bit of information out of your staff? I want the best chance for my baby”.

"The best chance for your baby is to have a mother!“

Gloria was quiet for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as Marianne herself fidgeted with her coat.

"If you could… would you go back and give more of yourself, to keep your baby?” She asked.

The question took Marianne back for a moment, but she considered it nonetheless, “If I knew I could change something I did, then yes… but give my life up… I really don’t know”.

"Well, I’m sure,“ Gloria said, "I found out today, amidst all of this, I’m having a daughter…”

Marianne’s heart gave a jolt, that weeks-ago pain drilling its way back out.

"I always wanted a child, but…“ Gloria scooted up the bed a little, sitting up with a great deal of difficulty, "That was hypothetical before. She is not. My daughter is real and she is loved and I will do anything to protect her”.

"Even give your life…“ Marianne stated softly. Gloria nodded, resting her hand atop the bump beneath her sheets.

"So you understand that I’ve made up my mind?” Gloria demanded.

Marianne simply nodded, “I will do everything in my power to save both of you”.

"I do believe you will try,“ Gloria gave a small, tired smile, "But I know it’s not in your hands”.

"I’ll…“ Marianne blinked at her last words and started to turn, "I’ll be back to check in on you tonight. Rest up, your heart’s been through too much”.

"You too, Doctor Fairman…“

With one last look as she opened the door, she shrugged one shoulder, "You can call me Marianne, if you wish…”

Gloria was laying back down with a smile when she closed the door.

With her head and heart so thoroughly bogged down, her every tired limb moved quickly to the elevators. She hit the call button, but after five seconds she couldn’t wait any longer. She shoved open the door to the stairwell and jogged up to the next level. Entering the hall, that still did not seem nearly fast enough. So she ran, every quick step seeming to crumble the last bits of her stubborn resolve as she went. Turning down the correct hall, she almost bowled over a phlebotomist and his tray, soliciting a sharp rebuke. She didn’t even apologize, just ran faster until she could see his door.

She stopped just short of it, catching her breath a little as her shaking hand hovered over the handle. She offered herself one last chance to have a second thought, but all that came was a deeper need to be in that room.

She opened the door perhaps a bit too quickly. because three sets of eyes glued on her instantaneously. Hers were on just one set of blues, though. He was awake, he was alive, he was alert…. He still had a nasal cannula, arm sling, forehead stitches, bruising and IVs, but he looked good all things considered.

Marianne must have given off a different vibe, however, because Dawn and Griselda were suddenly bustling away from the sides of the hospital bed and making their way toward her.

"We’ll, uh, leave you two alone for a bit,“Griselda said, obviously pleased.

"Be down in the cafeteria if you need anything,” Dawn offered quickly, before they both left the room.

It was just the two of them now, though it seemed that way the moment she entered the room. He was staring into her just as hard as she was him, his face cautious but expectant. She simply wanted to re-memorize every one of his features, awake and alive.

He had almost slipped through her fingers.

She made her way over to the side of his bed, removing her coat. She reached out and placed her hand over his, feeling his knobby knuckles under her fingertips. Her other hand grabbed a fistful of hair at the side of her head as her chest seemed to flood with far too vast a variety of emotion at once. It welled until it pooled at her eyes.

He reached up and cupped his hand over hers, cradling her face, undoing her.

She gasped, tears spilling as she nearly collapsed against him. He pulled her to him with his good arm and she easily complied, climbing into the bed beside him and curling beneath his shoulder. She knew she could not hug him right now, so she settled her hand on the side of his neck as they both laid back against the inclined pillows.

She sobbed into his chest as he pinned her to his side, hand gripping her desperately. He buried his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head several times as his own chest shuddered.

"I’m so glad,“ Marianne cried, "Don’t ever do that again!”

"I’ll try,“ he nodded, kissing her head once more.

She stilled, but tears kept flowing out freely, spilling onto his hospital gown. They stayed that way for a good long while, her body melting into the deep exhaustion of the long and stressful hours of the last days. The beautiful beat of his healthy heart hushing her into a serene doze, secure beneath his arm as she stroked the side of his face, memorizing him all again with her touch.

Their breathing did not match as his was still too labored, but she could swear that their hearts must have. Every part of her felt suddenly receptive and attuned to him. And suddenly, that felt more important than protecting herself.

"We need to talk,” she whispered somewhere in the lull, half-asleep.

"I know,“ he whispered in return.


	13. Part Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna note going in that this chapter contains details of a premature fetus as well as character reactions. The feelings portrayed are in no way a statement or position to convey any sort of righteousness on the subject of life and choice. There is no lesson in this passage, only an experience, one that is personal.
> 
> That said, if this might disturb you, I suggest skipping the first section of writing, as this chapter is otherwise relatively light.

Acceptance. It was such a loaded, painful word. It didn’t mean a shrugging off of events or circumstances, it meant a complete exploration of details and all resulting thoughts and feelings. To truly accept something was to have grieved it fully. To grieve it fully was to face it head-on and challenge the inherent reactions within.

It wasn’t exactly natural for Marianne to grieve the way most envisioned grieving. Sure, it looked different on everybody, but for Marianne, there was no clear line between it and overt avoidance. Denial melded quickly into isolation, which bled into her anger. Anger walked with her into her doctor’s office where she succumbed to bargaining to make sense of it all. Depression swallowed her, drowning her as the claws of more potential loss desperately pulled her down.

Scraping the murky, muddy bottoms of that despair the night prior, she could hardly see any light at all. But the moment she knew that Bog was okay, there it was, dim yet glowing above her. And she realized she could move. She may not be able to hold her head up above this depression without help, but she could certainly maneuver through it. She could make her own way.

And she chose to make her way back to Bog.

They held onto each other as best they could in his narrow hospital bed. The arm furthest from her cradled to the area of his thoracotomy, the feeling of it likely quite tender despite all the pain medication dripping through his IVs. Marianne stared down at his chest as he spoke, paranoid that the rise and fall of it would change or cease.

"Dawn brought her to me, in an adjacent room,“ He spoke in a still manner, his words coming in short puffs across the top of her head, "I heard you, crying… screaming… Jesus, it killed me”.

Marianne cringed at the memories he was invoking, “I didn’t want to hold her…”

"I know,“ he mumbled sadly, squeezing her arm, "Dawn, she… was so gentle and strong and loving with that tiny thing. My first compulsion was to not look, not let this become any more solid than it already had. But your sister… she just placed her in my hands without a word…”

Marianne shifted, her eyes burning at the images conjured deep in her mind.

"I just stared at her. Her skin was… almost translucent, but… She was whole, just a tiny, perfect baby. She had your nose, ten fingers and toes… fingernails, of all things, and just this peaceful look to her face".

"Really?“ Marianne looked up at him.

"Yeah,” he nodded, “It was like she had not known a single ounce of pain. She had been alive and then… she just wasn’t anymore, she just slipped away. But I got to hold her, I got to be there at the end and… it felt like such a privilege”.

She stared at him reverently, aching to understand the emotion of his words, but only coming away with more of her own heartbreak. She was choking on sobs again, it was no help that Bog himself had teared up recounting those moments, fresh and sharp still.

"She was our daughter,“ He sounded amazed, "I could wrap my mind around that idea immediately, but now I can’t get it out. And then, as many hours as I was sitting there, memorizing her, they took her from me, set her in a box and left, and I found myself panicking because the image of her was fading so quickly. I lose bits here and there and I find myself trying to keep hanging on, as painful as it may be. I can’t stop thinking about her and I wanted, more than anything, to share it with you. I wanted to grieve with you, yes, but… I wanted you to know how real she was, how much I could have loved her… I wanted to love her with you”.

Marianne buried her face against his chest, sighing. She wished she could just melt into him, that the closeness might dull some of the sharp, shattering pain in her chest, that they might complete each other.

"I’m sorry,“ she managed to push out.

"Shh,” he stroked her hair once more, “I know… but it’s okay. We’re together now”.

She nodded gently, wishing she could just undo anything about the last weeks, that she could have let herself break sooner and be done with it. That the end of this torture may lay somewhere within sight. She took a deep breath and let it out as a long, almost soothing sigh.

She had now and she had Bog. It was a decent start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It’s not in your hands".

Gloria’s words burned through her brain over and over in the following week. That week saw nights spent at the hospital, a relatively neglected clinic, every kind of therapy for Bog, and a patient oddly comfortable with her inevitable demise.

It was also the week she started her antidepressants, and Marianne found herself wishing they could kick in a little faster than she knew they would.

That morning, she had to deal with the death of one of her patients. An elderly man with prostate cancer who had spiralled quickly. He was terminal and the family knew he was not long for this earth. Yet, they had made arrangements for in-home hospice and he was to be moved in the next couple of days.

Marianne found herself moping around after talking to the family for the last time. They were accepting, crying softly, but hurt that he had to die in the hospital. It hurt Marianne, too. She wanted her terminal patients to have a peaceful end, they deserved it. The hospital was anything but peaceful.

When she acknowledged her poor mood and its source, her first inclination was to talk to Bog about it. It surprised her a bit that this was not accompanied by the anxiety usually inherent to such a disclosure.

Maybe her meds were starting to work after all…

Unfortunately, Bog had lung tests that morning and she was barred from meddling. Instead, she decided to go grab some coffee and go over her charts. She barely got through the first on her tablet before her phone started ringing. Oddly enough, it was Sunny.

"What’s up, Sunny?“ She answered, leaning back in her armchair.

"Oh uh… good morning Marianne,” He sounded nervous, “Um… Dawn is ending her shift soon, right?”

"Hm? Oh, yeah, she had the early rotation… I think they just finished up a C-section, actually. Shouldn’t be but another hour before she’s off".

"Okay, okay, good…“

Marianne leaned forward, "Why? What’s going on?”

"Uh… can you meet me out in the courtyard real quick?“

"Hm,” She looked down at her tablet, “Sure?”

"Great! See you in a minute!“ He hung up.

Marianne wasn’t sure what to expect, Sunny sounded so tweaked. But if he had come all the way here through the insanely accumulated snow, it must have been important. And it better be, she thought, knowing she would have to go back to her locker to get her jacket.

When she finally made it out the door, she immediately cursed the sky for the bitter cold and weighed the benefits of turning right around and going back in.

Unfortunately, she could already see Sunny waving to her from the reflection garden, hopping from foot to foot from either excitement or the chill. She sighed, watching it float away on a fogged breath, and started to plod her way across the heavily salted walkway.

"Dr. Fairman?” A woman on a bench she was making her way past stood up and addressed her.

Marianne stopped, a little annoyed at first at the distraction, but then registered the somewhat familiar accent. With a blink, she turned to face her.

"M….Mrs. Mendes?“ Marianne asked. She was fairly certain that this older woman was the same one who had bombarded her with food gifts the first time she treated Gloria. She was tall, she had the same facial features and rich eyes as Gloria…

But she looked like she had aged a great deal more than three years.

Nonetheless, the woman nodded, "How is my baby?”

A switch went off in Marianne’s head, “your baby?”

"Gloria,“ The woman needlessly clarified, "Is she doing okay?”

"No,“ Marianne answered before thinking, "She’s really not”.

Mrs. Mendes held herself over the middle at the words, as if she had been punched in the gut, her face crumpling in seeming agony.

"Why haven’t you seen her?“

This is really not what she wanted to do. Confronting a patient’s mother in front of the hospital, making someone else’s family issues her own. And yet… she thought of Gloria and the calm strength she was emitting. She thought of the inevitable battles she would soon be losing. She thought of the baby that would be left alone.

"She went against the family. I can’t see her like that,” the woman explained, like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Like what? Pregnant?“ Marianne asked, the woman flinched, "She IS your family. Why isn’t that enough?”

"It is shameful,“ the woman explained, a tremor to her voice, "To have a child out of wedlock is one thing… but to do it by choice… and with no father…”

Marianne reined in her bubbling anger, knowing how much worse she could make the situation. She stilled herself and took a deep breath.

"Whatever you may believe… or whatever family pride got bruised… Your daughter is dying. And your granddaughter is in grave danger of going with her".

"Granddaughter…?“ Her voice was a reverent whisper.

"I suggest you consider carefully your priorities in your daughter’s remaining time,” Marianne turned again to leave before she pushed it any further, “You’re running out of it”.

Mrs. Mendes stayed quiet, solemn as she sunk back down to her seat of the bench. Marianne hurried away.

"What was that?“ Sunny asked when she finally got to him. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder that she had not noticed before.

"I dunno, probably me making more trouble for myself,” Marianne shrugged, burying her hand in her jacket, “So what’s the big deal? Why am I out here in the cold?”

"Oh! Sorry, uh…“ He was shifting around nervously again, "I wanted to ask you if I could, um…. y'see Dawn… getting off work and um…”

"Jesus, Sunny, just spit it out,“ Marianne groaned, "I won’t be feeling my toes soon”.

He swallowed, “I want to ask for… Dawn’s hand…”

It took Marianne a minute, “wait… today?”

He nodded vigorously.

"Here?“

He nodded again.

She looked skeptically back at the hospital and then back to Sunny, who looked like he was about to burst, "How?”

"Well… I was hoping you could help me with that".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turned out, there were a great many things that she did not want to do that day that found their way into her schedule.

Convincing Dr. Barton to go along with this little plan was one thing, but the nurses were an entirely different manner. Nurses were the reason hospitals didn’t fall apart. A large part of that was due to their impeccable management of time and resources.

Neither of which they were particularly enthusiastic towards squandering for the shenanigans of some doctors. Thank goodness there was Sunny.

And he was currently laughing with a group of them crowded around a nurse’s station. They glanced over their shoulders every so often to glance at Marianne, who had been unsuccessful at talking them into their acceptance of the afternoon’s proposed “activities”. Sunny, on the other hand, had charmed them completely. They fawned over him and his plans.

"Thank you so much, you guys,“ He smiled, leaning back from the counter to leave, "I’ll never forget this. You’re real lifesavers”.

"Yeah, someone tell the doctors that!“ One of the women added. The group erupted in laughter again.

Marianne rolled her eyes as Sunny came back over.

"You know, that’s probably why the nurses don’t like you,” Sunny commented at her gesture, “So dismissive”.

"Like you know anything about nurse/doctor relations…“ Marianne grumbled as they both turned to walk down the hall, crossing her arms.

"I worked in the cafeteria, hotbed of gossip, for two years,” Sunny shrugged, “So probably more than you, at least…”

"Talking a lot of shit for someone trying to marry my sister…“

Sunny chuckled, "Alright, alright. Just got one last thing to take care of…”

"An emergency…“ Marianne tapped a finger over her arm.

"I don’t really like luring her under the pretense of peril…” Sunny frowned.

"Well, maybe we can find some good news, but this is a hospital…“

They were interrupted by her pager going off. She lifted it up and sucked in a hard breath seeing that it was Gloria again.

"Sorry, Sunny, I gotta answer this one,” She explained, “I’ll see what I can do, just…. stay out of sight someplace for now”.

He nodded his confirmation before she left to the elevators.

It wasn’t a 911, but she was fearful nonetheless. Gloria was not getting better, so she generally accepted that any news was bad news. Having just met with her mother earlier that day, she wanted even more time for the woman.

So much was unsettled in her life, so much had gone awry. Not to mention, 22 weeks still left terrible odds for the baby. At the very least, Marianne would be satisfied if they made it to 26 weeks. Survival at that point would be up to 86% and the odds for no lasting disabilities could be as good as 30%. It wasn’t ideal in the least, but it sure beat the odds of a baby who most doctors still did not deem viable.

She shouldn’t have been so concerned with the baby and its chances, she really shouldn’t. It wasn’t her job. Gloria was her patient. But it was what was most important to her patient.

And it became very important to Marianne. She was just grateful she had such a reliable team to work with towards these goals.

By the time she got to her floor, she had talked herself down from thinking the worst.

Looking over the newly updated chart, that seemed like a perfect waste of time in retrospect.

"Hypertension? Seriously?“ Marianne waved her tablet at the nurse, "A week ago, we could barely get a BP reading, now this?”

The nurse shrugged, “It’s a common issue with pregnancy complications, especially exacerbated by a sedentary lifestyle”.

Marianne sighed, flipping through a few more slides, “Dr. Barton will have to prescribe”.

"I figured you ought to know as well,“ The nurse offered.

Marianne turned towards Gloria’s room, but then stopped, remembering Sunny’s point about her and nurses.

"Thank you,” Marianne nodded to the young woman, “I appreciate it”.

The nurse smiled and nodded back before turning back to her station.

"Hm,“ Marianne shrugged. That wasn’t so bad.

"You spoke to my mother,” Gloria confronted her the moment she stepped through the doorway.

"Oh,“ Marianne closed the door behind her, "Yes”.

"You told her I was dying,“ She stated, her eyes were lined red and she clutched her rotund belly protectively.

”…in a roundabout sense, yes".

"And that I am having a girl".

"Yyyeah, that might have come up".

"I could have you… I dunno, like, fired from being a doctor or whatever”.

“Probably”.

Gloria sighed, sinking back against her pillow, “what’s the use”.

“You’d finally be rid of me,”Marianne offered, “Hey… I didn’t mean for all of that to come out. Your ma…. She kinda took me by surprise”.

“She does have a flair for the dramatics,” Gloria rubbed her belly, “Hence the cryptic phone calls in the last hour or so”.

“She hasn’t come to see you?”

“Pfft, no, she’ll probably just stick to stalking me until I kick the bucket,” Gloria looked out the window at nothing, “In the end, it’ll be my fault she didn’t see me. I’m supposed to beg for forgiveness”.

“Fuck that,” Marianne blurted without thinking.

Gloria’s face lit up and she laughed heartily, “Exactly! Fuck that…”

Marianne laughed as well, making her way over to the young woman’s bedside. She began to check her vitals as their shared mirth subsided.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her though,” Gloria said, clearing her throat.

“Of course,” Marianne check the bp machine.

“I miss my whole family, really…” Her voice dropped, a choke containing any words that may follow.

“Family can be… tricky,” Marianne breathed, “Yours seemed quite special to me before… warm, even”.

Gloria stayed quiet as Marianne checked her heart with her stethoscope. Her heart was still weak, it seemed, but it wasn’t worse.

“Things change,” Marianne continued, hanging her scope around her neck, “The older I get, the more I see that family isn’t a given. It’s work. It’s choice. It’s something you make every day”.

“I had a family, though,” Gloria shook her head, clutching her belly closer, “They were just there, I was blessed with them and then I made them leave”.

“That was their choice, not yours,” Marianne affirmed, “I’ve done my share of fucking up those choices myself, believe me. I shut my people out… because of hurt. I denied them in my own way. It didn’t matter how perfect they were, how good to me… It was up to me to close that distance”.

Gloria reached out and grabbed Marianne’s hand, giving it a squeeze, “I don’t want to die alone, Marianne”.

Marianne’s heart tugged painfully as she squeezed the woman’s hand right back, “You won’t, Gloria. I promise”.

There was an inflated companionable pause.

“You know about my blood pressure?” Gloria asked, pulling her hand away.

“They told you already?”

“I’ve been in the hospital long enough, I pay attention,” she nodded, “Is it preeclampsia?”

“Not yet,” Marianne shook her head, “But we need to keep it in check”.

“Kinda hard when I am stuck here all day…” Gloria grumbled down at the bed, “I swear, it’s like everything that can go wrong, will go wrong”.

“Hm, maybe it’s time to get you out of here,” Marianne looked to the door thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“You wanna see something sickeningly sweet? Might lift your spirits…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As fates would have it, the perfect excuse presented itself to have Dawn paged to a specific room without faking a medical emergency.

Bog came out of his lung tests with discharge papers. Dawn would be overjoyed to hear and help facilitate his departure. When asked if he would participate, Bog gave Sunny a long, heavy look.

“Ye better make it good”.

Marianne smirked knowingly as Sunny stammered out an affirmative response. Dawn deserved only the best, Bog knew that and wanted that just as well as Marianne had.

Asking kindly, Marianne got the nurses to help her get Gloria a front row seat for what was to come with a set of scrubs and a comfortable chair at the nurse’s station. She was enthusiastic when she heard what was happening and for whom. It seems Dawn was an angel to every life she touched.

Marianne sighed after sending the fateful text to her sister and checking that everyone was in place. Her nerves were going wild.

“You okay?” Bog asked, pulling on his shirt.

Marianne nodded, “I just… feel life moving”.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Marianne smiled, though it stung beautifully to do so, “It really is”.

The door to the room swung open suddenly and Dawn bounded in, “Boggy, you get to go home!”

“It would seem so,” He replied.

“I’m so glad, you healed up so well,” Dawn busied herself collecting items around the room and preparing him to leave, “Can I help walk you out? Who’s taking you home?”

“That would be me,” Marianne raised a hand.

“That is so great, do you need me to cover anything here for you?” Dawn asked with a warm smile for both of them.

“No need,” Marianne shrugged, “It’s all taken care of”.

“Alright then,” Dawn nodded and turned back to the door, “I’m just gonna go get the wheelchair, then…”

She swung the door back open, but immediately stopped, frozen in the doorway.

“What…?”

Marianne gazed over her shoulder just enough to see the edges of sparkling balloons and pink and white flowers that had not been there before.

Dawn chuckled, “Either someone’s really sick or really…”

She stopped talking when the hall was suddenly filled with the soft strumming tones of an acoustic guitar.

Marianne smiled, surprised. She had expected Sunny to play something spirited and fun, but the melody was slow and soft.

Dawn took some tentative steps out into the hall, looking around her perplexedly. Marianne and Bog filled in the doorway behind, watching it all unfold.

The strumming got louder over the AP and suddenly it was met with a voice.

“I’m gonna be here for you baby  
I’ll be a man of my word  
Speak the language in a voice that you have never heard”

Dawn gasped, recognizing Sunny’s voice immediately.

“I wanna sleep with you forever  
And I wanna die in your arms  
In a cabin by a meadow where the wild bees swarm

And I’m gonna love you like nobody loves you  
And I’ll earn your trust making memories of us”

As he finished the chorus, the sound shifted from the speakers, echoing from somewhere down the hall. Dawn was frozen to the spot, but craned her neck to try and locate him.

“I wanna honor your mother  
I wanna learn from your pa  
I wanna steal your attention like a bad outlaw  
I wanna stand out in a crowd for you  
A man among men  
I wanna make your world better than it’s ever been

And I’m gonna love you like nobody loves you  
And I’ll earn your trust making memories of us”

The end of the second chorus brought the music ever closer and then a gurney rounded a corner at the end of the hall. A couple of beaming nurses pushed it along as a crooning Sunny sat atop it, one leg across the other, bent over his instrument as he played.

“ We’ll follow the rainbow  
Wherever the four winds blow  
And there’ll be a new day  
Comin’ your way”

The gurney slowed to a stop directly between Dawn, who now had her mouth covered with two hands, and the mess of flowers and balloons. Sunny hopped down, a smile splitting his face in two as he gazed at his love.

A small crowd had formed at the scene, watching intently and quietly.

Marianne reached out and grabbed Bog’s hand, bracing herself as she felt her heart race in the moment.

“I’m gonna be here for you from now on  
This you know somehow  
You’ve been stretched to the limits but it’s alright now  
And I’m gonna make you a promise  
If there’s life after this  
I’m gonna be there to meet you with a warm, wet kiss”

Sunny walked up to Dawn, who was now very obviously crying.

And then Sunny sank to one knee, still strumming, and the crowd collectively gasped.

“And I’m gonna love you like nobody loves you  
And I’ll earn your trust making memories of us  
I’m gonna love you like nobody loves you  
And I’ll win your trust making memories of us”

The crowd was hooting as Sunny finished out the song. Dawn was practically shaking, still stuck to the same spot. A nurse came and took his instrument for him, quickly ducking out of the way as Sunny reached into his pocket and pulled out the box.

Everything seemed to go crazy for a moment and Marianne watched as her sister’s knees wobbled, afraid she might fall over.

It all seemed to quiet down as Sunny clasped the box in his hands and gazed earnestly up at the blonde girl.

“Dawn,” he started, “You’ve made me better, you’ve made me the man I am, you’ve made me confident and proud… Most importantly, you’ve made me love deeper than I ever thought possible. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to return that favor. I want to spend every second holding you up, supporting you, watching you shine…”

There was a short pause as he held up the box.

“And so, if you’ll have me,” He opened the box, the hall light glinting off the small ring inside, “Will you do me the supreme favor of becoming my wife?”

“YES!” Dawn cried without letting a moment pass, diving into Sunny with enough force to knock him back.

The crowd went crazy, cheering as Dawn covered the young man in kisses and they both laughed.

Marianne let out a breath she had no idea she had been holding and smiled. Bog squeezed her hand and she looked up at him, realizing she had tears in her eyes. He gave her a small smirk before pulling her into his good side.

She felt slightly ridiculous. The whole scene was so undeniably theatrical and so…. Well, Sunny and Dawn.

Later that day, after all the congratulating, ring flaunting, and a very joyful thanks from Gloria, who had hugged Dawn, Marianne walked Bog through his front door, thankful for the quiet place.

It was jarring, being back in this place after a month or so. Nothing had really changed, but for a thin layer of dust over everything. She supposed it was what passed for his version of letting things go, though it may have simply accumulated in the week of his hospitalization.

“Sorry for the mess”.

“You’re… joking, right?”

He pointed to a glass on the counter, half full of water.

Marianne snickered, “And this is why you can never come to my place without advanced warning…”

He shrugged, placing his hospital bag of items on the counter, “There, two things”.

“Just like home…”

“Whatever helps,” He looked over at her, “that is, if you’re staying…”

“Yeah,” Marianne nodded, “yeah, I am”.

“Good,” he smiled.

“Come on,” Marianne motioned to the couch, “You still need to rest. I’ll take care of dinner”.

“You will?” He asked, skeptical as he took a seat.

“I have a phone, don’t I?” She was already tapping out an order on a handy mobile app.

“Fair enough”.

She finished and plopped herself down on the couch beside him.

“I missed your furniture,” She stated.

“My furniture?”

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder with a nod, “Just the furniture”.

“You know…” He shrugged, “It could be OUR furniture if yer so fond of it”.

“Oh?” She smirked, “You’re not riding the high of a cheesy proposal, are you? Don’t get any ideas…”

“No,” he chuckled, “Heaven knows neither of us are fit for rushing into that… but I am fully invested in being able to wake up to you every morning. Sharing the bathroom sink, giving up half my drawer space, picking up your dirty clothes from the ground when you’re too tired to put them in the laundry bin…”

“Tired, lazy, whatever,”She chuckled.

“I’m serious, though…” He shifted, “If you want, I mean…You can move in”.

Marianne sat up and looked up at his averted eyes, “We JUST got back together”.

“But you’ve never stopped being the one I want by my side most,” He looked back at her earnestly.

Marianne’s breath caught, knowing that it was true, but finding her words trapped in her chest. She never stopped wanting him either…. But she was scared.

She moved onto her knees and reached up to cradle his face, turning it towards hers. She met his lips with her own in a gentle, but deep kiss, breathing him in, warm and familiar.

“I love you,” She whispered when she pulled away, staying close, “Let’s just take it slow”.

He nodded, smiling softly, “I can do that”.

His forehead pressed to hers as his shoulders sank, releasing tension and holding her close with his free arm. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling every bit of comfort he had to offer, hoping she could carry this feeling with her for the rest of her life.

“Honestly, though,” She said when she settled back down into the couch with her head on his shoulder, “As soon as those stitches of yours come out, we’re banging”.

He sputtered out a hard, surprised laugh, “You’ll hear nary an objection from me”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the massive cheese and Keith Urban song… but c’mon, you know cheese and fluff is TOTALLY Potionless. And Dawn deserves all the sickeningly sweet things in the world at this point.
> 
> Enjoy it while it lasts, we have a couple more bumps to go before we wrap up ;)


End file.
